Lionsnake Chronicles III: Harry and the Barking Rook
by Eria
Summary: Sequel to Harry and the Captured Pawn. To Harry, keeping secrets is exceptionally difficult with housemates as cunning as his, and in the Viper's world leverage is everything. With a new dimension added to his chess board, will Harry ever learn to make use of his allies?
1. Birthday Gifts From Afar

_**Author's Notes: **Hello, if you're a new reader, I strongly recommend that you read **Lionsnake Chronicles I: ****Harry and the Viper's Chess **and then **Lionsnake Chronicles II: Harry and the Captured Pawn**, to better understand how Harry ended up living with Snape as his legal guardian and how he settled in at Hogwarts during his first and second years as a Slytherin. If not, I understand that I made the first two arcs cohesive enough that you don't have to precisely read it in order if you don't want to because these arcs largely follow canon with a twist. _

_This is a Slytherin!Harry fanfic. There's still no pairings with Harry yet, though he's becoming more aware of how his classmates react to one another. I like canon-based characterizations, but will throw in fanon ideas or scenes found in the films to keep things interesting._

_I know I said I wouldn't post anything for a few months, but it's been agonizing for me to sit on this chapter when there's nothing wrong with it or the arc besides a few consistency errors that I've already fixed._

_May you enjoy your reading adventure._

* * *

Harry Potter was an unusual boy in many ways. For one, he enjoyed doing homework over the summer break between school terms. For another, he was rather obsessed about learning methods to survive. Living to adulthood was likely a concept that ordinary very-nearly-thirteen-year-olds took for granted, but not Harry.

He also happened to be a wizard.

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn up his back to keep the chill off him. By oil lamp, he was reading _The Art of War _by Sun Tzu, an ancient Chinese military strategist. Even as he struggled with the concepts within, Harry pushed the bridge of his round glasses up and continued to read carefully. Birthday or not, he had a feeling he'd be quizzed tomorrow during breakfast by Severus Snape, his legal guardian.

Harry had been receiving Owl Post from Hermione Granger and his Slytherin year-mates all summer, excepting Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe had never written anything to him before, so that didn't bother him so much, and Goyle had only written sporadically on occasion. It was Draco who normally sent post at least twice a week, and Harry found that he missed those sarcasm-laced letters. At least Theodore found the time to pen a note about his international travels with his dad twice a month.

Harry knew it was his fault that Draco's letters had stopped, since he'd tricked Draco's father into releasing his house-elf, Dobby, from a life of abusive slavery with the Malfoys. In response to Harry's concerns, Snape had made him promise not to send a letter to Draco. Harry had thought his guardian had been overreacting, yet swore he wouldn't unless Draco sent a letter first. At the time, he'd hoped that Draco would pick up a quill and write _something_ to him… But, so far, it seemed that Lucius Malfoy wouldn't allow any correspondence between his son and Harry.

Looking up from his book, Harry sat up and peered through the open, partly curtained window. He didn't see Hedwig in the moonlit night. Her large cage was open and stocked for her return. The silence in the house was so complete that Harry wasn't about to step across the creaking floorboards to the bathroom for a cup of water though his mouth was parched. He turned his head to look at the spring-loaded mechanical clock on his desk. It was one o'clock in the morning. Harry's stomach jolted. He'd been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour.

Before living with Severus Snape, Harry had never looked forward to his birthdays as he had never received cards and his gifts had been absolutely terrible when he'd lived with his Muggle relatives. Exactly one year ago, Harry had gone on a trip to Hogsmeade with Snape, and it ended in disaster. He had been grounded for nearly a month; of course, wherever Harry was involved trouble flocked to him as if he'd been marked for it. And in a way… he had been.

Harry gazed out the window, the cool night air pleasant. Though still rather small and skinny for his age, he had grown over _five_ inches the last year, four in the past month and a half. His joints felt tired and achy when he forgot to take the daily potion Snape insisted he imbibe. Harry's jet-black hair was just as it always had been—stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through the fringe on his forehead was a thin scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys—his Muggle relatives who had lost custody of him two years ago—had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of a car crash which had killed his parents… Harry had been left with the scar by Lord Voldemort. Because a car crash _hadn't_ killed Lily and James Potter. They had been murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years… and Harry _should_ _have_ met the same fate as his parents that day. However, Voldemort's curse had rebounded. Everyone had thought the evil wizard was dead… Yet still he lived, and his spirit actively sought revenge against Harry.

Harry didn't feel as if he was being melodramatic about that. He had so far met Voldemort in some form face-to-face every year he had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Once as the aforementioned spirit possessing the now-dead Quirrell during Harry's first year and then last year it was Voldemort's memory as a Hogwarts student, who'd possessed a first year Gryffindor by the name of Ginny Weasley and made her do horrible things.

Harry was very lucky to have reached his thirteenth birthday, a fact that he was beginning to attribute to his Slytherin placement. Where better to learn self-preservation than in the Hogwarts house of self-serving, cunning wizards and witches? Sometimes he wondered if he would have fared any better in any of the other houses without Snape to protect him or whether he would have continued to live with his awful magic-hating Muggle relatives. After all, Harry had normalized the Dursleys' mistreatment. It hadn't seemed all that strange to be locked into a cupboard under the stairs since it had been his room at number four Privet Drive in Little Whinging for as long as he could remember. However, Harry had learned that while children may be sent to their rooms for misbehavior they were never locked inside and consistently deprived of basic amenities like food and toilet use for punishment.

He stood carefully and leaned against the windowsill while he scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig. She had been gone a whole two days already. As much as he tried not to worry about her since she'd been gone longer before, he knew being Harry Potter's snowy white owl couldn't be easy. Gazing absently over the rooftops of dilapidated buildings, Harry saw something lopsided was flying towards him. It took a few moments to understand what he was seeing.

Silhouetted against the golden moon and growing larger every second were two owls carrying something as they flapped their wings. Harry watched cautiously and stepped back, sinking into his bed.

They sunk lower and lower and then swooped straight into his room. Two large owls and a smaller one landed next to him with a squeak of bed springs. The third one was unconscious and had been held up by Hedwig and another tawny owl Harry didn't recognize.

Harry lightly prodded it with a finger. "Hullo? Are you alright?"

With a soft hoot, the third owl finally fluffed its wings and weakly kicked out its feet where it laid on the comforter.

Recalling why the patterning on the small owl looked familiar, Harry identified him as Errol, who belonged to the Weasley family. There was a package attached to one of Errol's legs that seemed to dwarf the owl's twiggy leg. Harry untied the cords to take off the parcel and carried Errol to Hedwig's cage. He set the exhausted owl on a perch next to Hedwig's water bowl. The owl gave a feeble hoot of thanks and began to gulp some water.

Harry stepped towards Hedwig perched on his windowsill and lightly brushed her white feathers. "Hullo, Hedwig. Good work."

She nipped his fingers affectionately and looked very pleased with herself. Harry removed her burden, another parcel, and she flew to her cage to join Errol.

On his bed, the last owl was perched on top of a large package tied to its leg; in addition to that it held a letter in its beak, bearing the Hogwarts crest. It had to be a Hogwarts owl. It didn't stay for a drink when Harry relieved it of its burdens and thanked it. It ruffled its feathers and then took off through the window into the night.

Harry opened Errol's package first, curious to know who had sent it. When the brown paper came away, he discovered a present wrapped in gold paper and his first birthday card of the year. He slipped a finger under the lip and tore it open. Inside was a letter and a newspaper clipping, which had clearly come out of a Wizarding newspaper since the people in the black and white photo were moving.

He unfolded the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday!_

_I hope I'm not being too forward sending you a letter and all. I actually had to corner my dad about when your birthday was since I couldn't find it anywhere in the books I borrowed from the library. I thought that since you saved my life and everything that it was okay. It is okay, isn't it? _

_It was horrid enough trying to keep your birthday present a secret from my brothers; all of us Weasleys are in Egypt, you see. Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw, a total of seven hundred Galleons! It's almost all gone because Mum and Dad wanted us to take a holiday together as we'd never done that before._

_Egypt's an exciting place to be. Bill—that's my oldest brother—took us to visit the tombs. I wasn't able to see the last one. 'Old Egyptian Wizards were nasty curse-makers.' That's the reason I was given. Ron bragged that there were mutant skeletons of dead would-be Muggle thieves. I don't see what the fuss was all about and why I couldn't go. I wanted to see all of it while I was here, but my brothers think I can't take care of myself. What happened last year scared them badly. It scared me too but you don't see me hiding under my bed about it._

_Sorry. Here I am trying to wish you a happy birthday and all I can do is complain when I'm in **Egypt**!_

_Best wishes on your thirteenth birthday,_

_Ginevra Weasley_

_P. S. I hope you like your birthday present._

Harry grinned at the letter. It was interesting to say the least as he had never been on good terms with his Muggle cousin, Dudley, to have any sort of sibling-like relationship. He could imagine being the only girl among boys might be difficult.

He pulled out the newspaper clipping, scanning the moving photograph. All nine Weasleys were waving furiously at him while they stood in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and the shortest and youngest one, a broadly grinning daughter with a dimple on her cheek. Harry knew all of them would have flaming red hair if he could have gone to Egypt to have a look. Around Ginny's shoulders was Ron's protective arm. He was tall and gangly with his pet rat on his shoulder. Next to Ron was Percy with his horn-rimmed glasses. With a matching set of mischievous grins, the Weasley twins were hovering over Ron and to the side of them were two others, both as tall as Mr. Weasley, except one was muscular and stocky with an earring and the other thin and gangly with long hair; They must be Charlie and Bill. He wondered which was which.

Harry thought it was _wonderful_ that the Weasleys had won a large pile of gold. The Weasleys were a pureblood family, who were mostly nice and extremely poor. He hoped that they'd at least replace Ron's broken wand with the money.

Looking at Ginny again, Harry didn't envy her position as the youngest child and the only girl. He remembered how it was like visiting Pansy Parkinson with her three female companions the summer previously. His interests had been tossed aside for the sake of the majority's enjoyment. Picking up the present, he opened it carefully. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ginny.

_This is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill said it's rubbish sold for tourists and isn't reliable because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. None of us told him that Fred and George had put beetles in his soup._

_I hope it's useful to you._

Again, Ginny signed with her full name. Her signature was neat and slanted.

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point. It reflected the luminous light from the moon. Since it was doing nothing else, he picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought.

In this was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter from Hermione. The card just said, "Best wishes on your birthday!"

Harry opened her letter and read. Hermione asked how he was doing and wrote that she was in France with her parents for the summer. When she wanted to deliver his present and she wasn't sure how, Hedwig had appeared much to her delight. Hermione expressed longing to go to Egypt since the ancient Egyptian wizards were 'fascinating' after she had seen Ron's family photograph in the Daily Prophet, and then spent lines of ink about how she'd been able to research local history of French witchcraft and added what she learned to her History of Magic essay. _I hope it's not too long—it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for_, Hermione wrote_. _Harry very nearly rolled his eyes in amusement. Hermione Granger was Hogwarts' very own overachiever. _Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will Professor Snape let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September First!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

Harry grinned as he put her letter down and picked up the very heavy parcel. Knowing Hermione, it was sure to be a large book full of difficult spells—but it wasn't. His heart gave a huge bound after he ripped the paper off and saw a sleek black leather case with silver words stamped across it: _Broom Servicing Kit_. He thought Hermione was trying to make up for giving him such a hard time last year when everyone had thought he was Petrifying students with a basilisk.

He unzipped the case and nearly gasped in excitement. There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass with a broomstick clip for long journeys by broom, and a _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare_. "Thanks, Hermione," Harry murmured.

Harry's most prized possession was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom. Seeing the kit made him sorely miss Quidditch—which was a highly dangerous, very exciting sport in the magical world played on broomsticks.

Gingerly zipping the bag up, he set it aside and opened the last package. From the untidy scrawl, Harry knew it was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper. Harry tore off the brown paper and saw something green and leathery. Before he could unwrap it properly, the object gave a strange quiver and whatever was inside it snapped loudly—as though it might have jaws.

Harry immediately hopped away from it, landing on the floor quietly. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. The half-giant had been known to buy vicious, three-headed dogs and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Reaching for the quarterstaff Snape had gifted him at the start of summer by his bed, Harry used it to poke the parcel. It snapped loudly again and then suddenly the paper was torn off in a spray of brown confetti. Harry had only a moment to register that it was an animated book emblazoned with the golden title _The Monster Book of Monsters_ before it scuttled right off his bed like a crab and crashed loudly onto his floor. It growled and snapped its jagged cover at him, blowing confetti at him in a menacing manner.

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered, feeling woefully adequate with only a thick rod of wood in his hand. He suddenly wished he hadn't forbidden Dobby and Nanua, two overbearing house-elves, from entering his room.

The book shuffled straight for him. He danced around it trying not to let it catch him, but it feinted to the right and latched onto his stationary left foot. "Ouch! Get off of me!" Harry beat his quarterstaff at the book while it gnawed his foot. He managed to knock it off. His foot was rather severely scratched up and bloody from the book's sharp paper teeth.

It scuttled across the room and hid under his desk. Harry grabbed the belt from his wardrobe and walked slowly towards it, ignoring the sting of scratches on his foot. Slowly pulling out the chair, he stuck the quarterstaff below the desk and the book suddenly let out a vicious snarl and lunged forward taking a chomp. Dragging it out, he jumped onto it with a loud THUD. Taking the belt, he wrapped it around the struggling and snarling book and tightened as hard as he could. Then he buckled it and jumped off the book. Harry stared at the book which quivered and scurried back and forth, trying to rid itself of the belt. Since it could no longer bite, it quickly darted back under his desk, growling threateningly.

His bedroom door swung open. Harry did a turnabout brandishing the chewed quarterstaff like a cricket bat.

In his usual black robes, Severus Snape was staring at him like he'd lost his mind. "Why are you awake at this godforsaken hour?" He demanded, sounding quite alert for it being in the wee hours of the morning.

"Er, a book. A book attacked me," Harry said pointing at his desk. "It's hiding now. Hagrid sent it to me for my birthday. And then it started chasing me."

"Sit down."

Harry sat on his bed. The skin of his left foot looked very shredded and several toes were still oozing blood.

Leaning over, Snape held an opened jar of salve in his right hand and smeared a great gob of it over the entirety of Harry's foot. He closed the jar. "_Go to bed_. You can celebrate your birthday when you've woken in the morning."

Always amazed by magical salves and potions, Harry ran his hands over the now unblemished skin.

His guardian stood, swinging his wand to send the chair back in its place under Harry's desk, and ignored the renewed growling from beneath the desk. "Next time, be more cautious opening parcels."

"Yes, sir." Harry leaned the chewed quarterstaff beneath the windowsill.

Snape raised his wand, and the door slammed shut behind him as he exited.

Rubbing his neck after that short-lived excitement, Harry saw that there was a card on his bed where a piece of brown paper still was. It was a note from Hagrid wishing him a happy birthday and simply stating that Harry would find the book helpful the next school term. Harry thought it was quite ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in handy.

Now there was only the Hogwarts letter left. He tore it open with a finger and pulled out the thicker letter.

It stated the usual morning departure for Hogwarts Express—eleven o'clock—at King's Cross and the list of school books needed for the year. On it, Harry saw _The Monster Book of Monsters_, which explained Hagrid's cryptic message. What was new was the permission slip to visit the village of Hogsmeade '_on certain weekends'_.

That would be great to visit Hogsmeade once again. He thought surely Snape would sign it for him, since his year-long ban was up. He glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. After being told to go to bed, his guardian wouldn't sign it right away even if it was Harry's birthday.

Harry extinguished the oil-lamp and crawled into bed. He closed _The Art of War_ and set it on the floor next to the kit Hermione had given him. Taking off his glasses and setting them next to the silent Pocket Sneakoscope, Harry pulled the covers up and went to sleep.

He expected more presents would arrive by the time he woke up.

The book growled the entire night.


	2. A Hat with a Stuffed Vulture

_**Author's Notes: **Harry gets to meet his great-aunt!_

* * *

Harry woke with a great breath of air. The sun was already up and the birds were chirping loudly outside.

The clock said it was nine o'clock. Harry had missed breakfast.

Shrugging he dropped to the floor and did stretches. Feeling his legs loosen up, Harry did ten sets of ten leg-lifts, twenty sit-ups, followed by fifteen push-ups and twenty pike jacks. By the end of it, he was sweaty and extremely thirsty. After he drank some water, he finished the remaining stretches his guardian had instructed that he do each day.

Feeling only somewhat sore, he quickly cleaned himself, dressed, and drank several more glasses of water. Clomping down the stairs, he pushed open the heavy door to the sitting room. He recoiled when a large vulture was in his way. It was a dead vulture, perched on top of a witch's hat. An old, wrinkly-faced woman with sharp green eyes and a hooked nose, glared at Harry. Her black feather boa looked completely out of place with her otherwise tight-fitting dark green robes with taffeta at the shoulders.

Snape was seated in the armchair that had lumpy cushioning in front of the only window with a cup of tea on the small rickety table next to him. Harry looked about, not seeing any presents, but not really minding either with a guest in their midst.

"It is in everyone's best interest," the formidable-looking, old woman continued without greeting Harry or introducing herself, her voice gravelly and tough. "He has been isolated long enough."

"Excuse me," Harry began.

"Children do not speak while adults are talking, dear," the woman snapped at him.

Mouth shutting, Harry frowned as he tried to place who she was.

"Harry, this is my grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, Matriarch of the Longbottom family," Snape said dryly.

Harry bowed slightly as courtesy dictated. "Hello, Mrs. Longbottom." _Now, go away_, He urged silently. Mrs. Longbottom's hands had fingerless fishnet stocking gloves on and she was carrying a rather ugly handbag made of some sort of bright red snakeskin.

"Repels thieves and burglars, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said condescendingly to Harry as if he had asked her out loud.

Harry looked at her curiously. What did that matter if you had to lug around something so hideous? What was the reason for the vulture then? Did that ward off would-be attackers?

Mrs. Longbottom smacked her lips as if she wanted to give Harry a piece of her mind for glaring at her. "No, no, this won't do at all." The woman looked at him without any sort of warmth. "Harry, be a dear, and fetch a cloak. We're leaving."

Harry said loudly as if she were deaf, "Why? You aren't my legal guardian. Doesn't seem very smart to do what you say just because you said to, does it?" After all, she _had_ to have turned down the initial offer to be Harry's guardian for Snape to have gained custody of him.

"I _will_ hex your mouth shut, boy, if you continue with your cheek!" She looked particularly livid.

Harry blinked at the déjà vu the statement gave him. Then he frowned at his guardian. _You're not really going to let her take me?_ Harry thought, making his expression as desperate as possible.

Harry's great-aunt tsked very loudly. "Completely open. You've neglected to teach him the most fundamental Occlumency. I would have expected better guidance from someone with talents like yours."

"What's Occlumency?"

Mrs. Longbottom looked at Harry like he was a bug that had just dropped into the frosting of her very expensive cake. "Haven't told him?" She said sharply at Snape, who took a calm sip of his tea.

"A rather necessary precaution due to his sustained mistreatment from the Dursleys," Snape drawled, as if their standoff didn't matter to him.

"Told me what?" Harry asked Snape with a polite tone.

"He has been peering into your feelings and memories whenever he so desires," Mrs. Longbottom said waspishly.

Harry's stomach dropped. "_What_?" He couldn't believe that no one had told him that this ability existed or that he hadn't discovered a word of it in any of the books he'd read.

The grandfather clock chimed half past eleven.

"Hungry, Grandmother?" Snape inquired with an odd amiable tone, while Harry grappled with his newfound knowledge.

"Naturally as it's nearly noon," Mrs. Longbottom said sharply.

"Lunch will be ready precisely then," Snape said. "Shall we retire to the eating parlor?"

"Yes, please." Her expression was extremely puckered, but for the moment she no longer paid any attention to Harry.

Harry grimaced. Wait, why would he believe _her_? She was the very same woman who hadn't stopped Nanua from punishing herself. Certainly, Harry had _suspected_ many times over the past two years of Snape being a mind-reader but—

"A Muggle mind-reader and a Legilimens are completely different things, dear," the old witch told Harry as she passed by him into a narrow sort of passageway, which used to be the cramped kitchen.

Following after Snape's thin frame, Harry gawped at his surroundings. The dining room was no longer squarish, but a majestic, long spacious room. There were two chandeliers hanging down the middle, throwing bright light in the normally dimly lit room. The décor was old-fashioned and stuffy and there was even a fireplace at one end. Number thirty-seven at Spinner's End didn't even have a chimney, so where was all the smoke going…? Harry shook his head at himself. Of course it was magic. There had to be enchantments within the fireplace which attracted and vanished the smoke.

In the center of the room was a grandiose twenty-person table with several centerpieces. It was set with the prettiest china Harry had ever laid eyes on and nine pieces of silverware per plate. There were four different forks and three different spoons… In front of the bowl-like plates that sat on top of flatter plates were three crystal goblets. One was fluted, one looked like a wine glass, and the other was bulbous filled to the brim with ice and water.

Snape pulled a chair out for Mrs. Longbottom before taking a seat.

Harry almost refused to sit down on principle. After Snape's pointed look, Harry sat beside him and stared at the extra utensils he thought were entirely unnecessary.

"This is a ten course meal. Use the outermost utensils and let them get taken with any uneaten food," Snape said quietly.

Harry nodded stiffly and then frowned. _But there were **nine** utensils._

"Two of the dishes are to be eaten with fingers," Snape elaborated as if the thought had just occurred to him and not from Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes at his guardian, who didn't seem at all bothered to be reading his mind, or whatever a Legilimens did.

At that instant, food was suddenly on Harry's plate. Two small hen legs battered and fried were propped up in the center of his plate.

"Fork," Snape said curtly.

Harry had to hold down the end of the bone to spear the very moist meat off. He hungrily shoved it into his mouth.

"The danger to yourself is even greater now that the he's escaped from Azkaban," Augusta Longbottom said with a curdled tone as if she didn't care about Snape's well-being in the slightest.

After taking a sip of his full wine glass, Snape answered, "I hardly think he is capable of much more than eluding the authorities."

"But I thought it was impossible to escape from Azkaban…?" Harry blurted out. There were many Death Eaters and supporters of Voldemort who had been placed in Azkaban, the Wizard's equivalent of jail, and if any of them had escaped Harry was sure to be in danger.

They both looked at him shrewdly. Their familial likeness was impossible to ignore with their hawkish noses and wide foreheads.

"Haven't warned him yet?" Mrs. Longbottom said deliberately to Snape, who appeared as if he hadn't heard her.

Harry's nerves were extremely unsettled. He put down his fork, dropping his hands to his lap. "Who's escaped?"

Snape did not look as if he wanted to tell him as anger clenched his jaw.

"Sirius Black," the old woman said.

"My godfather?" Harry sat on his hands to banish their sudden iciness. "You don't think that… that he'll try to kidnap me?"

"At least, the boy has a healthy sense of self-preservation," Mrs. Longbottom said after placing her fork onto her plate. The food vanished.

"Apparently so," Snape's expression was unreadable. Harry remembered that Snape had promised to drill that sense into him until it stuck. Harry thought his guardian must be secretly pleased about that.

Harry looked down at Snape's plate and noticed it was empty as well. He hurriedly placed his fork on his plate. Once it had vanished, more food appeared on each of their plates.

"Fingers," came the curt reply to Harry's unspoken question.

"There have been sightings in Ottery St. Catchpole," Mrs. Longbottom continued.

"I was unaware of any personal vendettas against the Weasleys… barring Lucius Malfoy's one-man crusade," Snape stated.

"But, the Weasleys are in _Egypt_," Harry said, nibbling on the dry, stick-like vegetable stuffed with something creamy inside of it. Harry thought it was better not to ask after its components.

"Yes, quite serendipitous for them," his guardian responded.

Harry was going to have to look that word up. He thought it meant lucky, but wasn't sure.

"Aside from your pitiful earnings, there are many more reasons to accept my settlement in court. The most obvious being You-Know-Who's return. You can't honestly expect to deny him when he asks for the boy given that you wear his brand on your left forearm?"

Harry looked up at the mention of a brand and gazed at his guardian curiously. When Snape's lips had thinned into a line, Harry knew better than to ask.

"Stubborn fool," Mrs. Longbottom whispered.

Harry didn't like it when anybody insulted Professor Snape or brought up his past allegiances. He glared at her. Why did Snape's grandmother think it was a good idea to wear that hideous-looking hat?

"My patience is fast leaving with your continued disrespect, dear." Mrs. Longbottom's steel green eyes turned to Harry. "I wonder… Did you goad your Muggle relatives into mistreating you as well?"

Harry's face twisted. "If by goading you mean _existing,_ then yes, I suppose I _am_ at fault," he said through clenched teeth. He hardly wanted to remember how the smallest oddity had always been noticed straight away and punished. Or how he spent hours and hours standing on the little crate they'd left inside for a desk to stare out the vent in the cupboard door while the Muggles ate or watched the telly. Even when they shut the vent, it hadn't been impossible to reopen it with several toothpicks used as levers, and Harry hated being in the dark.

"I have read the court proceedings," Mrs. Longbottom said in a bored tone as she picked up a soup spoon to begin her next course. "They started their punishments when you were three, an extraordinary age to be using accidental magic. Little wonder that Headmaster Dumbledore went through so much trouble to fetch you, if you'd been on their acceptance rolls for eight years."

Along with his fingers, Harry's toes were growing cold from the sudden change in topic. He decided the creamy green pea soup was more interesting to stare at after he'd placed his soup spoon into it. He forced himself to appear small and browbeaten; he thought that anything else might spur the nasty woman on.

"Curious," she said. Harry could feel her eyes on him. It was the same feeling he had from Snape on occasion. Harry had a niggling thought that perhaps this was how one could sense when someone was doing that Legilimens-thing.

Snape continued to eat, as if oblivious to Harry's problem.

_Well,_ Harry thought to himself, _if there's a curse, there's always a counter-curse._ With a look of concentration, he imagined he was inside his cupboard, locked tight and vent closed. The tickling sensation faded as if it were some far-off thing that didn't concern Harry.

Snape's spoon clattered on his bowl's rim.

Harry's head jerked up to see his guardian carefully wiping his fingers on the cloth napkin. The spoon was lying at an angle on the tablecloth. Little green splotches decorated the once-pristine white surface.

"_Yes_. Certainly has raw potential, hasn't he?" Mrs. Longbottom said evenly with her irregular voice. Harry absolutely hated feeling invisible as the adults talked about him while he was in the same room.

Snape picked the utensil up and placed it into his bowl. Their soup course vanished and an unusual-looking salad appeared. "Indeed he has the raw potential for attracting _danger_."

"All the more reason to allow me to mold his abilities," Snape's grandmother continued. "I know many respectable and talented tutors who would duel one another at the possibility of having a hand in Harry Potter's formal education."

"Stop talking like I'm not here," Harry said abruptly, meeting her eyes. He wished she would leave so he could go open his presents.

His cupboard was blown apart, and a memory of a horrible Christmas drew up in Harry's mind. He was powerless to stop the flashback.

_…Harry at six years old knew better than to open his present from porky Aunt Marge as she always gave him something terrible. And yet the horrid woman would cane him if he didn't. Even now, she was smiling too nicely. _

_Harry hoped there weren't mouse traps inside the box like last year. He slowly took the wrapping and twine off the box and opened it. Inside were dog biscuits. He lifted the bone-shaped biscuit and looked up at his Aunt Marge, who was laughing uproariously at his hurt expression. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were laughing with wide-eyed expressions; Harry hadn't realized it then but he saw that they were terrified._

_Then young Dudley patted a leg and whistled. "Harry, come here, Harry!" He taunted._

No, a small voice in the back of Harry's mind said. He knew what was going to happen, but it felt like it was happening to someone else.

_Harry's small hand wrapped tightly around the treat. He wanted nothing else but for them to stop. The talking telly behind him exploded in a burst of sparks and smoke; every light bulb in the house shattered with a distinct POP; Someone was shrieking: Aunt Petunia. In the darkness, Dudley's brand-new robot with flashy lights crumpled as if something large had hit it and then was torn apart limb-by-limb. _

I didn't do it on purpose… The voice begged weakly.

_"It's alright. It's alright," Aunt Marge's voice boomed in the darkness. She yanked open the curtains covering the windows, and weak winter sunlight poured in. "We must have experienced an electrical surge." She turned to see the robot she'd given to Dudley, now dismembered, and narrowed her eyes at Harry. He backed guiltily away from her, his icy fingers dropping the dog biscuit on Aunt Petunia's pristine carpet. _

_"You ungrateful little bastard!" She spat out, grabbing her cane. _

It was a nightmare, Harry decided. And he desperately needed to wake up, but he was already awake. Someone was in his mind forcing him to relive this memory. Stop it! He screamed, trying to wrangle free of the old woman's magic.

_Crying out, Harry ran straight for his cupboard and dove in, squeezing under the bottom-most steps where Aunt Marge couldn't touch him but Ripper—_

"STOP!" Harry yelled, wrenching his eyes from her. He no longer had any appetite at all. Hurriedly, he wiped his tear-streaked face. He would have excused himself from the room, except that he didn't trust his legs to carry him after the terror of that particular memory. He had thought he'd forgotten that awful Christmas.

"Your terrible attempt at Occlumency was hardly—"

"You will leave," Snape snarled at his grandmother, "_Now_."

They stared at each other. Sensing magic in the air, Harry shuddered and kept his eyes firmly on the green stains dotting the tablecloth.

Augusta Longbottom slammed her feet down and shoved the chair back, the legs shrieking across the floor until the chair crashed into the wall behind her. "He _must_ be trained. You-Know-Who will rise again and when that occurs, Harry _must_ be ready to face him…" Adjusting her hat, the old witch scooped up her bag and stormed out of the room. A few moments later, the front door slammed shut with a BANG.

Shrinking in on himself, Harry suddenly felt very bad about this. After all, if it wasn't for _him_—

"You are _not_ responsible for Augusta's actions," Snape countered angrily.

Harry certainly didn't feel that way. He looked up at his guardian, conflicted. "Am I going to have to live with her?"

"Yes," Snape stated simply, composed once more. "Her case is solid, as is her reasoning. With current events as they are, you will be considered far safer in the custody of a neutral party."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

Snape sighed nearly imperceptibly and then took Harry's innermost fork, placing it across Harry's untouched plate of food. Immediately the food disappeared, replaced by treacle pudding. "Eat."

Harry took up his spoon and ate a little of the pudding. Once the treacle pudding touched Harry's tongue and melted in his mouth, he ate it voraciously, his appetite coming in full force.

His guardian left his own dish of pudding untouched and picked up the second to last spoon. He crossed it over the bowl of pudding, which immediately vanished. A type of minced meat appeared on his plate and he began eating quietly while Harry devoured his pudding. When the pudding was gone, Harry's plate filled with steak and mash.

Deciding it was now or never, Harry took the permission slip out and put it in front of Snape. "…This needs to be signed before I get back to Hogwarts…"

Snape's lips puckered, making him look like he had eaten a particularly tart lemon drop.

"No?" Harry said after seeing that expression; his eyes flicked down to the faded sheet of parchment and then back to Snape, who stared at him with the faintest whiff of discomfort. "…It's not safe with Sirius Black on the run, is it?" Harry had been looking forward to visiting Hogsmeade with his friends.

Without another word, Snape rose and left the room. Harry took his response to mean that his deduction was correct. Stirring his mash with his butter knife, Harry sighed through a sniffle. He'd already spent nearly all summer holed up at Spinner's End… If Snape hadn't taken him camping to show him basic wilderness skills for a month, Harry would have run away just to get a breath of fresh air. Now he'd have to spend the whole school year inside Hogwarts... Would he even be allowed on the Quidditch pitch?

Half an hour later, Snape walked into the dining room with a black owl feather on his shoulder. "We are going to Hogsmeade," he stated to Harry in the irritated tone his guardian generally reserved for Potions students. "Are you finished? Or would you prefer to sulk more?"

Harry pushed himself up and put the remaining utensils on the plate. "I'm done," he said sullenly, gathering up the permission slip. He wondered if he could fake Snape's signature… and thought better of it when he heard his guardian snort behind him. It was an absolutely stupid idea considering that his guardian was also the Potions Master and Potions Professor of Hogwarts and would be able to tell the Deputy Mistress that his signature was a forgery on the spot.

"When you are ready, we will Apparate from the garden. Unless you would like to wear your Muggle clothes again," Snape suggested dryly.

"I'd rather not stick out. Once was enough." Harry adjusted his daily-wear robes and pinched lint off the front of them. They were a shade lighter than black, which the witch selling the second-hand robes thought was a shame. She'd suggested green to complement his eyes. Harry had thought that was ridiculous. Green would make him more noticeable in a crowd.

"Very well," Snape led the way to the backdoor.

Dobby, Harry's queerly dressed house-elf, popped into the room as soon as Snape stepped out. For some reason, Dobby was terrified of Harry's guardian. "Master Harry! Nanua told Dobby of how terribly ill Master Harry is after Apparating!" The small creature with big green eyes proclaimed loudly, holding out a vial.

Harry took it and drank the anti-nausea potion. "Thank you, Dobby." He set the empty vial on the table.

The house-elf clasped his hands behind him, stood on his tiptoes, and thrust his Christmas jumper-clad chest out despite it being the last day of July. "Always a pleasure, Master Harry! Always a pleasure!" He squeaked happily.

Smiling, Harry stepped out after his guardian. Snape Apparated them to the same spot in Hogsmede that they had Apparated to the year prior. Only the tipmost part of the black feather's quill had remained on Snape's shoulder. Harry wondered where the rest had gone. Had it simply been left behind?

Distracted by the silence around him, Harry looked around curiously. He saw that the road was less full than last year and the magical folk around them were looking at them with suspicion. There were loads of Wanted Posters plastered on the storefronts. A starved man with wild black hair looked half-crazed, wearing black-and-white striped robes. In his hands in front of him was a sign of weird symbols and a random set of numbers. It was Sirius Black and he was laughing, or screaming—Harry couldn't quite tell. Harry stared at the moving picture, burning the image into his mind. Even if the man might try to snatch him while Polyjuiced, Harry thought it was more likely they'd meet face-to-face due to the difficulty of procuring the ingredients for a Restricted potion.

Out of the corner of his eye, a great black owl swooped down, dropped a letter for Snape, and then flapped away.

"Is that your owl, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes." His guardian quickly opened the letter and read it. Snape flicked the letter away from him and it burst into flames. Harry wondered what had been written on it.

"What's your owl's name?" Harry asked, deciding not to ask after what message his guardian had received, as they walked down the unpaved street.

"Holmes," Snape replied.

"As in, Sherlock Holmes?" Harry asked curiously. "I didn't know you read anything other than potions-related materials."

"Young children are not given potion manuals to read from," Snape answered briskly.

As they passed the stores, Harry checked out the storefronts with their wares on display. They passed a store with Enchanted cookery, one selling items dealing with photography, another selling Magical pets, a bookstore and coffee shop.

Then Harry heard someone clomping down the street. He blinked looking up. Someone tall and blond was running down the path towards them.

Harry's mouth split into a grin when he recognized who it was. "Draco! What're you doing here?" Then Harry immediately looked around for Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, expecting to see him.

"Hello, Harry, Professor Snape," his year-mate said, nodding towards his godfather politely. He stood slightly taller than eye-to-eye with Harry instead of towering over him as he had last year. Draco took one look at Harry and exclaimed, "What ghastly robes you're wearing!"

"Nice to see you too, Draco," Harry said wryly. "These are my throwaway robes."

Draco looked quite affronted by the news. "_Why_ would you go around in _public_ on your _birthday_ with those on?"

"Because I can and I don't care what others think. Now come on. I want to go to the Three Hoops. The Firebolt might be out!"

Silently, Snape followed behind them.

"Oh, I read about that model," Draco said a bit snidely. "It's supposed to be rather unreliable to handle."

"But it's got the best stats of the broomsticks currently on market, a hundred-fifty miles an hour for top speed…!" Harry looked about. "By the way, where's your dad?" He couldn't let his guard down just in case Draco's father tried to attack him as he had last year.

"Him? He's busy," Draco said dismissively.

"Did you come here to shop?"

Draco gave him a very long look.

Harry knew that look. Draco was wondering if he was an idiot. "What?"

"My father isn't here, and I'm not here to shop."

"Well, then, how'd you get here without magic?"

"I took the Knight Bus to get here." At the blank look on Harry's face, Draco sighed dramatically. "It's cheap Emergency Transport for Witches and Wizards; I had one of my servants give the signal since even one little _Lumos_ isn't allowed. It was the fastest way to leave Malfoy Manor without dirtying up my robes. As to my father, I'm sure he'll be furious when he finds out I've gone."

"How did you know I'd be—" Harry stopped and then glanced over his shoulder at his guardian, remembering the black owl feather on his shoulder. "That's what you were doing. You were inviting everyone to come to Hogsmeade for my birthday."

"It would have been far more polite and prudent to have sent an invite weeks ago to ensure all parties had the chance to clear their schedule. However, you seem to have little capacity for expressing your wishes in a timely fashion."

Draco rolled his eyes, a habit he'd acquired from Harry. "Indubitably."

Harry flattened his lips together when he didn't know what 'indubitably' meant. "I didn't realize _he_ was going to refuse to sign my Hogsmeade permission slip," Harry told the prat.

"You weren't even aware of such a thing until Owl Post this morning," Snape refuted.

Draco laughed when Harry huffed loudly. "Stop laughing!" Harry said, "Or I'll tell you to go home, you git."

"I've missed your company as well, Harry," his year-mate said warmly.

They passed by an empty lot, situated next to Three Hoops.

Harry stopped, frowning. "I could have sworn there was a shop here…" It took Harry only a brief moment to remember the name since it was Quidditch-related. "The Beater, it was called."

A surprised chortle sounded from Draco. He turned an excited grin to Harry. "Really? What did it look like?"

"It is not a shop meant for children's eyes," Harry's guardian stated with a vexed tone, interrupting Harry's answer.

Harry shot his guardian a puzzled look. "It was just a leatherworking shop…" Draco let out a laugh which then continued for longer than Harry thought was necessary. With another huff, Harry shifted his feet. "If it wasn't, then what—"

"Oh, look, brooms," Snape said, his tone devoid of any joy or pleasure as he nodded towards Three Hoops. An older man's laugh barked across the space where The Beater was supposed to be. Harry shot a confused look towards the grassy lot.

Snape firmly shoved both of them towards the Quidditch shop. "Enough lollygagging." Neither of them fought the Potions Master on it as they had wanted to go there anyway.

Once they stood in front of Three Hoops, Harry was sad to see that the Nimbus Two Thousand and One was on display. "I thought the Firebolt would be out this year…"

"It's on sale a week _before_ school's in session. _Pity_, that you'll miss seeing it in person," Draco said after reading the sign in the shop window.

"Doubt I'll be able to go shopping for myself at Diagon Alley," Harry agreed sourly and then turned when he sensed something peculiar. His hand dropped to his wand in its holster. Harry wasn't sure what it was. The fact he sensed anything was very unusual for him, since Harry often ran headlong into danger without realizing it even after being drilled for a month in a forest filled with Magical flora and fauna; his gut instinct seemed mainly reactive rather than proactive to danger.

Without question his guardian turned as well, his wand up as he scanned the deserted street behind them. His expression was neutral and alert.

"What is it?" Draco also pulled out his wand after he turned to see them both ready for an attack.

Harry squinted looking for whatever he sensed. Whatever it was didn't _feel_ bad, but Harry took no chances. "I don't know… I have this odd feeling." His eyes set upon something black standing in a narrow dark alley between two gift shops across from them. "I think something might be in the alleyway right over there…" He pointed with his wand. If only it would move so that he'd know if he was just imagining—

Suddenly a large black dog jumped out, rushing towards Snape with enraged snarling.

Without incantation, Snape waved his wand and a red jet of light flung out, missing the fearsome dog by a hair. He waved it again, and a glowing field surrounded the three of them. The scrawny black beast easily as big as Fang stopped short. Despite not touching the barrier, several hairs were smoking while it snapped its jaws furiously, while it paced around them once. It soon gave up and loped lazily to another dark alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"_Merlin_, was that a Grim?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry's mind raced. That name… he recognized it from a particularly dark and spooky Magical Fairy Tale. Harry was trying to recall what a Grim was and then realized that the Bewitched watch around his arm never once felt cold against his skin at the appearance of the black, shaggy-haired beast. The Muggle watch was enchanted to go cold in the presence of Dark creatures, and it hadn't with the beast.

"Come here," Snape said sharply. His wand disappeared into the folds of his robes, and he placed a hand on each of their arms. Harry felt as if he were twisting and then he was being pressed on all sides once again.

They were back at Spinner's End surrounded by tall hedges. Harry stumbled feeling very sick.

"Get inside," Snape ordered crisply, wand out as he scanned the area.

Draco yanked Harry's arm towards the open door. Harry lurched inside. He glared up at his friend. "Why aren't you sick?"

Inspecting his nails, Draco said loftily, "My father has Apparated me from place to place ever since I learned to stand."

Harry already had a low opinion of Lucius Malfoy because of his mistreatment of Dobby, but to make a young child do Side-Along Apparation repeatedly seemed terribly worse to Harry's sensibilities.

"Back so soon, Master Harry?" Dobby said with his reedy voice. The house-elf was still wearing one of Harry's ratty old jumpers that hung to the little creature's knees, a winter hat and a single sock with a hole in the toe on his right foot, the very same that had once belonged to Harry.

Harry took the potion offered and drank it quickly. "Thanks—"

"Dobby! You _have_ to go back to my father!" Draco lunged for the tiny house-elf.

With a squeak, Dobby disappeared with the noise of a whip-crack.

Harry glared at Draco. "What was that for?"

"If Dobby returned, my father would forgive the grudge he has against you," Draco said calmly, but Harry knew that couldn't be the only reason.

"I don't care about your dad's grudge," Harry said crossly. "I won't send him back to be abused."

"Better him than me," Draco muttered darkly.

Harry blinked and looked at Draco, who had turned away from him. "Draco, what do you mean?"

The uncomfortable silence was interrupted by another house-elf, this one much older than Dobby with giant blue eyes instead of green. Nanua wore a translucent, multi-colored scarf around her shoulders and preferred nicer clothes than Dobby, "Hello Master Draco, Master Harry," Nanua said. "Birthday outing not to your liking?"

"Something attacked us, Nanua," Harry said by way of explanation. He continued to look towards Draco questioningly who so far avoided looking at him.

"Would Master Harry and Master Draco like some tea and crumpets?" The wizened house-elf gestured towards the sitting room.

Draco murmured, "Yes, that sounds—"

"You are going straight home," Harry's guardian interrupted Draco, who noisily sighed. Snape had only just stepped into the house.

"But I haven't even wished Harry a happy birthday!" At the flat stare from his godfather, Draco with a look of annoyance immediately turned to Harry. "Happy Birthday. I will, of course, be happy to attend your birthday party and have picked out the perfect gift for you."

"Birthday party?" Harry said curiously.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of gifts…" Grey eyes looked at Harry from top to bottom. "Why aren't you wearing the Spellfast Cloak I gave you Christmas last year?"

"I haven't locked spells onto it yet," Harry said nervously, noticing that his guardian shot a peculiar look at him.

"Enough chitchat," Snape said gruffly and then directed at Harry. "You will stay _inside_."

"Yes, sir," Harry groused.

Looking most unwilling, Draco followed Snape back outside. With a CRACK, Harry knew they had Apparated away.

"Is he gone, Master Harry?" A shrill voice asked in a whisper.

"Yes, Dobby. All clear."

The young house-elf let out a shriek of joy and then stepped closer with a furtive smile. "Dobby has sorted Master Harry's broom and cloak closet!" The house-elf snapped his knobby fingers, and the door popped open. Dobby washed his hands in excitement.

Harry took a few steps to check it out and saw that the closet had been Extended and everything contained within was neatly in its place, no longer threatening to spill out. "Well done," Harry praised.

Dobby let out a gleeful noise, dancing and hopping in place. "Master Harry likes! Mastery Harry likes!"

"Yes, Dobby," Harry said shutting the door. The little house-elf constantly acted this way, which was why Harry had forbid the elf from entering his room. Dobby would constantly rearrange everything and try to decorate his room without asking first.

"Dobby also cleaned the sitting room, every inch of it, Master Harry, sir!" The house-elf squeaked.

"Er…" Harry hesitated. He remembered his guardian expressly telling Dobby _not to_.

Dobby's jubilance immediately disappeared. "It was so _filthy_, Master Harry, Dobby could stand it no longer," the house-elf's giant eyes filled with water as he reached for an umbrella from the stand.

"No, it's fine!" Harry blurted out, and the little house-elf's hand shrank from a U-shaped handle. "Just don't do it ever again."

"Dobby also fixed the rickety table, re-stuffed the chairs, and polished the shelves," he squeaked, tugging his ears nervously.

Harry decided he ought to go take a look since he was going to pass through it on the way to his room anyway. He pushed open the door and found that it wasn't as heavy as it had been before despite being laden with books. The very first thing he saw was that the room had also been Extended. The air smelled fresher, the blue carpet unstained and looking brand-new, the unused electric light had been replaced with a hanging gas lantern. The ceiling was bright white without dustbunnies, and everywhere Harry looked the shelves gleamed a mahogany brown. There was not a speck of dust or a dead bug anywhere. Harry pulled off a book, noticing that the metallic filigree on the edges of the pages were shiny like new.

Dobby waited anxiously for comment.

He didn't know what to say. The dirty room had bothered him ever since he'd begun to live there. Now, the curtains looked as if they'd been bleached and starched, and the grimy windows had been scrubbed. Harry looked through them now across the pruned bushes to the broken-down houses across the tired, pot-holed road, a feat that would have been impossible only an hour ago. He stepped closer to the front window when he saw a shadow by the overrun shrubbery across the street. He had that odd sense again.

A great black dog gazed back at him.

Harry started violently. He leaped across the room, yanked the hidden door open to the stairwell, and raced up the steps to his room.

"Master Harry?" Dobby queried fussily.

Harry slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. He paced across his room. Unable to help himself, he went to the window and stared down at the houses below. The black dog was gone. Harry briefly wondered if he was going mad. He sat down on his bed, hands sweaty. Hedwig's cage was empty across from him.

A deep growl from the desk startled him. Harry relaxed when he remembered it was _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

There was a sharp rap on his door, and Snape stepped in. Two house-elves peered into the room from the hallway behind Snape's black robes.

"Is Master Harry alright? Master Harry took off like Dobby had never seen before."

Nanua shushed him as Snape waved his wand to shut the door slowly behind him.

"Sorry about the sitting room," Harry said. "I told Dobby not to." He looked at his entwined fingers, feeling a sort of numbness set in. He never felt fear for very long after all.

Snape stood there for a moment and then said, "Did you see the black dog?"

"Yes, sir…" Harry looked up nervously. "It can't get in, can it?"

"No. At the moment, not even an owl can find us."

"Will Hedwig be alright?"

"As intelligent as she is, I believe so."

Harry nodded. His eyes lingered on the Sneakoscope he'd received that morning. "Draco… was acting strangely when he saw Dobby…"

"Naturally he sees that house-elf as an avenue to commence correspondence to you. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle can only provide so much intelligent discussion."

"I thought it might be because of the letters… but when I said I had no intention of sending Dobby back because of how he'd been treated, Draco said, 'Better him than me.'" Harry paused. "Do you think…? He might be…?" Harry met his guardian's unreadable black eyes.

Snape snorted as if this were truly a ridiculous proposition. "Lucius Malfoy loves his son and would never raise his hand in anger towards him. And if he did," his guardian continued while Harry quickly checked the Sneakoscope, "Narcissa is quite capable of expressing her displeasure with innumerable curses for _daring_ to harm her precious child. Most likely, Draco is appealing to your emotions as he very well knows he's more likely to convince you if you believe he has been mistreated due to the house-elf's absence."

The magical device didn't light up even once.

"Now," his guardian said bringing Harry's attention back to him. "Why haven't you asked for my assistance in the _seven months _since you received this Spellfast cloak?"

"Er… you seemed busy," Harry lied. Something began to whistle next to him. He turned. The Sneakoscope was flashing and spinning in place. It stopped abruptly as soon as Harry flushed. Snape scrutinized him without comment. "I didn't know when there would be a good time to show you, and if I did put spells on it I'd feel like I'd have to wear the cloak. I didn't want to wear it since it looked really expensive."

"Take it out," Snape said without sympathy.

Harry went to his wardrobe, pulling out the bottom drawer which held his invisibility cloak in a hidden compartment. He took the shimmering purple velvet Spellfast cloak from it and spread it out over his bed.

"When Enchanting an object," Snape began, leaning over the cloak to inspect it, "You must find a workspace that has as little magic as possible to avoid an imprint from placing itself into the material prematurely." He gestured at the general surroundings. "As you have not cast any magic in here, accidental or otherwise nor have lived here long enough to leave a passive magical colophon, this room is a good choice." He lifted the cloak and spread it across the clean wooden floor at the foot of Harry's bed. "What defensive spells have you decided upon?"

Harry started. "Er… a Shield Charm, a Notice-Me-Not, and an Alerting spell."

"Ah," Snape said, "the last two are useful indeed. Due to the constraints of Spellfast, no active or particularly strong spells can be used, so your first choice won't work. Which protection spell might you use then?"

In his mind, Harry quickly ran over the passive variety of protection spells he'd learned in Professor Flitwick's class and during the Dueling sessions he'd overseen. "A Rebound Protection like Salvio Hexia?"

"If you didn't mind the welfare of those around you, that would certainly work," Snape said neutrally.

Harry winced at the thought of a nasty hex rebounding unpredictably onto someone else. "Er…" There were hardly any passive protection spells that could be mobile that Harry was aware of that would fit what he wanted. "I don't know what I could use."

"Do you know of Regeneration spells?"

"Er, yes. Refreshening and scouring charms fit under that category." Harry frowned as he tried to picture the use of a cleaning charm on his cloak. He couldn't see why it would be useful.

"My recommendations to add to your list are a standard Repellant Charm, a Quietening Charm and a variation on the Absorption charm. Explain why these would be of benefit to you."

"A Repellant Charm would keep the cloak looking clean and keep the rain off of me. A Quietening Charm on the cloak would make my movements quieter…" The other charm… was good at sponging up liquids and automatically vanishing the substance to whichever place that vanished things went. As the Repellant Charm already repelled substances, Harry wasn't sure what good that would do. His guardian waited patiently. Snape had suggested a _variation_ of an Absorption charm on a cloak. Harry's eyes lit up. "Can you cast the charm to _absorb_ magic?"

"Very good," Snape said with the barest hint of warmth. Harry grinned happily. "It will lessen the impact of most spells. However, be aware that no known spell will provide defense against an Unforgivable Curse."

The Killing Curse then would not be blocked by the cloak.

Harry's guardian pulled out his wand. "Before you Enchant anything, you must cast a localized ward on the object you intend to Enchant in case the spells backfire." He flicked the dark wand, and Harry saw the glow of a lopsided dome cover the cloak; even the floor seemed to glow under the cloak. "With Spellfast, there is a phrase that must be intoned before spellcasting begins. Once you say that phrase, the cloth is activated and will accept up to five spells, even ones that don't work because of a carelessly spoken word." Snape paused. "The general consensus is to weave the weakest spell into the Enchanted object first. However, I have always found better luck in placing the second-strongest spell first, weakest second, followed by the next strongest until the final spell is cast. Now, list the order in which I should cast the spells."

Harry had to contemplate that for a long minute as his mind tore through his knowledge of the general weaknesses of each spell. "Repellant, Quietening, Alerting, Notice-Me-Not, and Absorption…?"

"Not sure?" Snape drawled.

Suddenly very unsure, Harry re-listed it exchanging the Notice-Me-Not and Absorption spells.

His guardian snorted. "Your first list was correct." He lifted his wand. "As I demonstrate, you must not speak or you will have wasted Draco's gift to you."

"Yes, sir."

"_Spala Festi_," Snape commanded. The cloak immediately took on a hue of countless colors. As Harry's guardian cast each spell very carefully and flourished the correct wand movements across the cloak, its light grew dimmer and dimmer, until the light had completely disappeared. _"Finite Spala_," he intoned at last.

A flash of light momentarily blinded Harry, and then he heard Snape cancel the ward. Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted.

"Put it on."

Carefully, Harry reached and lifted the cloak which was now a deep green-blue, nearly black. His fingers had tingled the moment he'd touched it.

"Like most Enchanted Objects, a new cloak will protect only its master the best. As I have gifted it to you for your birthday, you are its master."

"Oh…" Harry pulled it over his shoulders and fastened it at the front with the silver clasp in the shape of a snake. He tugged the heavy hood over and found that his face completely shadowed in the cowl. He pulled it back to his shoulders. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"I suggest you wear it whenever you are outside."

"I'm allowed outside?" Harry didn't bother hiding his hopefulness.

"When you begin your new term at Hogwarts," Snape responded harshly. "I was also informed that you own a pair of Dragon-Hide Boots…?"

Harry opened the door of his wardrobe and pulled the surprisingly light boots out from the floor of it. He decided he ought to switch out his shoes before he was told to, so he toed off his trainers and shoved his socked feet into the boots. They fit very snugly and were much more comfortable than they looked. The black boots even looked well with the cloak.

"Go fetch the Enchanted book hiding beneath your desk."

Giving an indifferent look at his guardian, Harry didn't argue and scooped up his half-chewed quarterstaff. It wasn't until he poked the staff under the table that the book snarled. It lunged towards him. Harry jumped back as the book scuttled towards him. He did notice that it seemed to be confused as to where he was until he prodded it again.

Suddenly the belt around the book vanished, and the book began to spit shredded paper at Harry. It looked quite angry with him. "Oi!" He complained at his guardian who stood with his arms crossed in front of the window.

"This is a situational analysis exam. Now subdue the book," came the drawl as Harry tried to avoid the book's snapping covers.

"But I can't use magic!" Harry said, realizing the statement was stupid the moment it left his mouth.

"And you will find yourself in these situations in the future," came the bored reply.

Just as the book had the night previously, it feinted and attempted to latch onto his foot, which he dodged just in time. Harry thwacked it with his quarterstaff.

It let out a louder snarl and hopped right onto his other foot. This time Harry didn't feel a thing, not even pressure as the book chomped and snapped over the Dragon-hide boot, wiggling its spine at him.

"_Wicked_," Harry said gleefully. He kicked his foot out and the book clung hysterically to his boot, snarling. He suddenly had a feeling of inspiration. Setting his foot back on the floor, he cautiously reached out and petted the spine of the book as if it were one of Aunt Marge's nasty little dogs.

It flopped over like it had fainted. Harry stared at it and then prodded it with his quarterstaff. The green leather-bound book now acted like any other. He picked it up. The pages within opened to a gathering of garden gnomes. When the book didn't try to lunge at his face, Harry closed it and set it gingerly on his desk.

He turned to see Snape observing him coolly. "What?" Harry suddenly felt as if he'd failed whatever Snape had expected to see.

"I see your luck hasn't changed." He pointed his wand at Harry's quarterstaff, "_Reparo_." In a blink, it was good as new.

"Thanks," Harry said running his fingers over the smooth surface.

"Nor does it appear to have occurred to you to ask for help."

Harry shot him a dismayed look. "I thought this was a test of my ability—"

"To _think_," Snape said nastily.

"That's not fair!" Harry shouted. "You set me up to fail!"

"Did I? I don't recall telling you that you had to solve the problem of the book by yourself."

Anger and embarrassment flushed into Harry. His guardian was right, of course. Harry had assumed that part of it.

There was a knock on the door, and Snape opened it with a swipe of his wand. It was Nanua.

"Master Snape, Master Harry, your evening meal is prepared for you."

"We will analyze your results later," his guardian said disinterestedly and swept his robes out of Harry's bedroom.

Harry sat down on his bed, suddenly weary. He drew his fingers across the smooth, soft cloak around his shoulders. He was disappointed with himself. Professor Snape had told him countless times to make use of all the resources around him… and the first chance he had to prove that he'd learned something after months of hard work… he'd failed.

He sighed. Snape would probably tell him that he needed to make use of everything and everyone around him instead of stubbornly relying on himself. It was a hard habit to break because Harry had spent a decade having only himself to rely on.

His fingers dug into the cloak. Harry would change that.


	3. A Letter Portkey

_**Author's Notes:** Another fun chapter to write.  
_

* * *

After Harry had brooded in his room for a considerable length of time, Dobby stuck his head—which was much bigger in relation to the rest of his tiny body—in the doorway being careful to technically remain outside of Harry's room. "Master Harry?" He squeaked conspiratorially. "Dobby has prepared Master Harry's favorite pudding! And Dobby made cake to celebrate Master's thirteenth birthday! Will Master Harry eat Dobby's carefully crafted desserts?" The little creature looked extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"I don't feel hungry," Harry said. The Sneakoscope let out a short whistle and stilled once again. Harry sent it an irritated look. "I don't want to eat right now." The Sneakoscope didn't budge.

"But it's Master's Birthday Feast!_"_ Dobby exclaimed shrilly, tugging at his ears anxiously.

"I don't care."

"Dobby will twist his ears very painfully if Master does not attend, for it means Dobby has failed to make sweets that Master Harry enjoys," the house-elf said tremulously, pitiful eyes watery as his long-fingered hands wrapped around his floppy ears.

"I'll go!" Harry stomped his feet to the ground as he pushed himself upright. He walked out of his room and pulled the door shut, looking at the little house-elf whose height barely reached his navel. "I'll go. Don't pull on your ears."

Dobby dropped his hands with a satisfied look and disappeared.

With an annoyed sigh, Harry tromped down the stairs. He pushed open the door leading to the sitting room and then, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" startled him so soundly that he fell back onto the stairs.

His heart was pounding in his ears as an embarrassed flush appeared on his face. He stood up with as much dignity as he could muster, while many expectant eyes laughed at him silently. "Er… thank you," he managed even though sudden warm emotion choked him.

Every single one of his Slytherin year-mates was there, even Sally-Anne Perks whose parents were both Squibs and incapable of Apparating her to Snape's home. Draco looked quite smug standing between the leggy, bulky Crabbe and solid Goyle, who now were heads taller than any of the present Slytherins. Harry could feel the threat of tears tickling the back of his throat. He'd never had a birthday party before. Even if Hermione wasn't there, Harry was still overjoyed to even be allowed a party.

"But… how?" Harry looked at the rest. "Besides Sally-Anne and Davis, I thought you were all traveling out of country!"

"Professor Snape sent us letters _weeks_ ago!" Pansy Parkinson answered with a sly grin.

Harry's chest suffused further with deepening warmth. Snape had dropped a hint at Hogsmeade about this very scenario; he'd said, 'Y_ou seem to have little capacity for expressing your wishes in a timely fashion_.' Ergo, Harry's guardian had seen to it that Harry had a birthday party, even though it hadn't occurred to Harry to have one until Draco mentioned it.

"Our parents scheduled our return to Britain to coincide with your first ever birthday-fest!" Daphne Greengrass said cheerfully, while Millicent Bulstrode nodded next to her.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Theodore Nott. "You were in Malaysia."

Theodore said boisterously, "My Da shipped me back as soon as he got the letter. I've been writing to you from my cousin Barnie's house ever since. I timed it and everything." He waggled his eyebrows. "The famous Harry Potter didn't notice a thing!"

A mystified Harry was bombarded with laughter from his year-mates. Exasperated, he looked up at the ceiling; with the impromptu exam, his guardian had bought useful time for the rest of them to have the sitting room bedecked with silver streamers. Every inch of the room, save for the books, had been Transfigured to various shades of dark green; even the lantern flame was green. Harry thought that Nanua and Dobby must have helped them, since it was unlawful for Underage wizards and witches to use magic outside of school.

"What's the agenda? Feast first or presents?" Draco asked haughtily as Harry roamed around the room looking at how everything had changed. There were nine ebony chairs sitting in a circle around a low, circular table next to a plump, high-backed chair, appearing to be made of green velvet.

"Presents. You can all bleeding well wait for food," Harry plopped down onto the armchair Snape typically favored, noticing that the lumpy pillow was much more comfortable than before.

The others sat down, Draco and his pawns on Harry's right, Theodore and then Sally-Anne on Harry's left. The rest filled in as they liked. Parkinson sat directly across from Harry with Davis and Greengrass on either side of her, while Bulstrode chose to sit by Goyle.

As soon as everyone had settled, a present suddenly appeared on Harry's lap. He checked the tag. "A gift from Pansy," Harry said to the rest of them as he began to open the gift.

"You beat my bribe?" Draco retorted.

Parkinson merely smiled elegantly.

Harry pulled out a small white box. He opened the top and inside was a fancy-looking knife that appeared a bit unwieldy to cut with. Harry couldn't tell if it was made of silver or not, but the handle was wrought into a fanciful serpent, its eyes made of emerald. He lifted it, giving a curious look to Parkinson.

"It's a letter opener, Goblin-made, rumored to have belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. The handle will go hot if it detects poison. The Enchantments have been updated, of course, since there are a great many more poisons available now than there was at the time of Slytherin."

"This is amazing. Thanks, Parkinson…"

She cleared her throat. "Your Grace may call me Pansy, if he wishes to."

Harry chortled. "Alright, Pansy as long as you call me Harry and not _your Grace_."

Pansy beamed happily. "Of course, _Harry_."

He carefully placed the knife back into the narrow box and set it on the low table. Immediately another present appeared in Harry's lap. He checked the tag, but it didn't say who it was from. Harry pulled the thick green ribbon from around the box.

"Whose is that?" Draco demanded irately as his head swiveled to look at his bemused year-mates, obviously having been bribed out of second-place.

Harry lifted the lid. Inside was a letter addressed to him in slanted, flowery script. He lifted it by the corner and flipped it. Imprinted in the wax was a coat of arms he didn't recognize holding a dark green ribbon in place. "It must be from Dumbledore," he said lifting the letter opener from Pansy's package.

"You get correspondence from the headmaster?" Sally-Anne said with awe in her voice.

"He gave me a Christmas gift my first year at Hogwarts." Harry adjusted his grip on the letter to angle the letter opener for proper insertion.

"That looks like the coat of arms of the—" Draco's voice was suddenly cut off when Harry promptly felt the world spin around him, mainly centered from behind his navel.

Harry knew right away that it wasn't Apparation as he didn't feel as if he was being stuffed through a drinking straw.

When the world braked suddenly, Harry dropped onto a dusty, lumpy chair.

"Harry! You made it to my birthday party!" A voice he didn't quite recognize shouted excitedly.

Letter and letter opener still in grasp, Harry looked around and saw that round-faced Neville Longbottom had grown a bit stouter. There was no one else in the dusty, dimly lit sitting room as far as Harry could tell. "_Your_ birthday party?" He placed both objects onto the solid, dark table in front of him. There was a saucer with a china teacup filled to the brim with tea that had obviously been prepared with the cream and sugar Harry preferred. "Er, Neville, I didn't realize I was invited." In fact, he'd had no idea that they shared a birthdate.

"Oh, well there was a note and if you'd opened it before the allotted time it would've told you about the Portkey. Sorry about that. Must've given you quite the fright," Neville took up his teacup and took a delicate sip.

Harry took the teacup sitting in front of him and drank nearly the whole thing to settle his startled nerves. It was entirely too quiet in the musty-smelling room. "So… this letter is a Portkey?"

Neville nodded. "Nobody's ever come to my birthday before, which I can understand since Gran is…" He trailed off.

Tilting his head, Harry gave him a funny look. "Er, your grandmother wouldn't happen to be Augusta Longbottom, would it?"

"Why, yes, that's Gran's name! How'd you know?"

"She's fighting for custody of me," Harry didn't mean to say. He blinked.

"Oh… _Oh!_ That would make us brothers!" Neville clapped excitedly. "I've always wanted a brother, especially someone as brilliant and kind like you!"

"I'm not that brilliant, and I could be kinder if I didn't think people would take advantage of me," Harry said compulsively. He frowned at himself.

"Hey, so," Neville said breathlessly, "Wanna go outside and play some Quidditch? Maybe teach me some pointers? I know it might not be fun since I don't fly very high, but what do you say?"

Harry grinned as great warmth spread through him. "Yes, I'd like that very much. I've been cooped up in Snape's house all summer."

Unfortunately, before they could go anywhere, wood creaked above them. Harry twisted and saw that the wizened Matriarch of the Longbottom family stood at the top of the stairs.

"Welcome, Harry Potter, to Longbottom Manor," came her gravelly voice.

"Why've you brought me here?"

In a dark yellow dress that had tired, gold peacock feathers flying off the cuffs and collar, the old woman slowly walked down the steps, sliding her hand along the bannister. "It is my grandson's birthday and I wished to surprise him," she said waving her other gnarled hand. She _seemed _nicer in her own house since she hadn't threatened to hex Harry's mouth shut for being rude.

"I believe there's another reason?" Harry said through a frown. Neville made a small noise; His expression looked a little hurt.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Longbottom looked down her nose at Harry. "I understand that you care a great deal for those you are close to…"

"Did you just threaten my friends?" Harry asked sharply, watching every last nuance of the old woman's face.

"No, dear. What purpose would that serve? Good gracious those dreadful Muggles taught you to treat family with cynicism." She sighed with deep disappointment. "No, there is a matter we must discuss about your guardian's true loyalties."

"My guardian Severus Snape hasn't taught me any Dark magic or tried to make me sympathetic to the Dark Lord," Harry said instead of what he'd intended to say. He was growing irritated by his sudden spate of honesty.

"Neville, you may go. I won't delay your playmate long for your thirteenth birthday," she said with a severe tone, clasping her hands together.

"Yes, Gran," Neville said quickly, nearly tripping over himself to leave the room.

After several more moments, Augusta Longbottom said, "As you well know, You-Know-Who is keen to rise again and obliterate any presence of rebellion."

Harry nodded, but only just. "Voldemort wants to kill me because I ruined his plans at the pinnacle of his power."

"Precisely. You are aware that of all of You-Know-Who's _known _supporters that only Severus has escaped Azkaban." Steel green eyes stayed on his as the Longbottom Matriarch moved to the opposite side of him. "There is a reason for that. Do you know how You-Know-Who kept his Death Eaters loyal?"

Harry opened his mouth to talk about Lucius Malfoy, but when she asked something else he answered that instead. "No… I don't, but I have a feeling you're about to tell me." What had changed? He was never this free with his words.

"You-Know-Who used a most Dark curse of his own devising to brand a victim's very soul as his property," she said quietly. "The physical manifestation is on the Death Eater's wand-arm. Have you never noticed that your guardian only wears robes with tight-fitting, long sleeves?"

"I thought he had trouble staying warm even during summer," Harry admitted. He had thought it was a little odd.

Mrs. Longbottom smiled and tapped her left forearm. "The most damning evidence of his loyalty to You-Know-Who is the fact that he survived. Only those who truly desire to follow You-Know-Who's commands live through the branding. All others perish. Thereafter, You-Know-Who may summon his branded followers to him at any time."

"Like this letter brought me here?" Harry said lifting the letter from the table.

"You-Know-Who cannot whisk his servants to him without a Portkey. However, they _will_ be compelled to answer their master's call. Denying it would be perilous for a Death Eater. You see, their_ loyalty _would be called into question."

Harry took a bold breath. "Snape wouldn't hand me over," he said, still mulling over what she'd told him.

She let out a small sigh. "I am offering the refuge of my home to you, Harry Potter, because I am grateful that you defeated You-Know-Who. Had my son and his wife been in their right state of mind I believe they would have prevented my bastard grandchild from ever gaining custody of you. I apologize for taking so long to come to a decision."

Harry blinked at her, and his mouth opened, "Why hadn't they?"

"Neville hasn't told you about his parents?" Mrs. Longbottom's eyes flashed with anger.

"Er, we aren't exactly that close."

"Interesting since Neville speaks quite highly of you. Seems you helped him out of a few sticky spots, despite you belonging to a different Hogwarts house?"

"I hate bullies and even the ones in Gryffindor pick on him," Harry said, rubbing his aching neck. "So, what happened to his parents?"

"They're in St. Mungo's," she said quietly. "Death Eaters tortured them until they lost all sense of themselves." Harry grew very chilled at that. "My son and his wife were Aurors, very well-respected. By adopting you, I can honor their sacrifice."

"Professor Snape gave me a _home_," Harry hissed out and then tightly shut his mouth. Why was he compulsively telling the truth? What had he done besides touch the letter opener and the Portkey? Harry's eyes settled onto the empty teacup. Could he have been drugged?

"I care that you seem taken in by the lies of a Death Eater," the old woman said softly, her expression sour. "He cares no more for you than he does for a useful ingredient for a valuable potion."

Suspicious thoughts swept away in a tide of righteous anger, Harry jumped to his feet. "He does too! He's protected me from Voldemort and taught me how to use my magic and to trust my housemates and to survive—and to _think_!"

"He is a _Death Eater_ and a _Dark Arts_ practitioner," Augusta Longbottom stressed. "I expect the half-blood has been acting as your mentor to gain your trust, so when the time comes, you will be a peace offering to You-Know-Who to make amends for Snape's public denouncement."

"_You take that back_," Harry warned.

"The _only_ reason that Death Eater has escaped Azkaban is because he chose his savior wisely: Albus Dumbledore, who is both financially and politically powerful."

"You don't like Professor Snape because he tricked you out of a house-elf!"

Mrs. Longbottom didn't even blink as she stared at him steadily. "I know you don't want to hear it, but your guardian does not care about you. Not one bit."

"That's a lie! He does!"

The old woman watched him for a moment. "He does not, Harry," she said quietly, "He is incapable of empathy, has lacked it since he was a child. As it is, if it weren't for Dumbledore's firm resolve to 'rehabilitate' him, that Death Eater likely would have lost his post as a Hogwarts professor years ago."

Harry opened his mouth in his guardian's defense. However, Mrs. Longbottom twitched her wand toward him and he quite suddenly found that his lips were stuck together. Harry's hands went to his mouth, horrified that his lips would not come unstuck.

"It has only been _recently_ that students have been graduating with first-rate potion-making skills." When Harry only glared at her, she clucked. "You will discover the truth for yourself sooner or later." She twitched her wand at Harry again. "Now, run along, dear. My grandson has been waiting rather patiently for you in the garden."

Once his lips unstuck, Harry fled from the room. He didn't stop until he was outside in the bright afternoon sunlight. On the other side of the grassy expanse, Harry saw Neville with two brooms, both Shooting Stars. Harry stifled his tears. That woman was a terror. No wonder Neville was terrified of the similar-looking and similarly ill-mannered Professor Snape.

Why _was_ Professor Snape nastier towards Neville in particular? Other non-Slytherins were just as bad at Potions as Neville and Snape didn't bully them so viciously. Perhaps… Neville was a symbol of the family from which Snape had been cast out from...?

Even though his heart still stung from Mrs. Longbottom's malicious lies, Harry understood her intent. The truth was that Harry's guardian could viciously eviscerate a person with his words since he never suffered fools silently. Harry had on more than one occasion gotten the brunt of the professor's verbal abuse in Potions class for speaking out of turn or coming to Hermione's or Neville's defense, but in private Snape was meticulously non-judgmental, so long as Harry avoided whatever dangers his guardian warned him about. Wondering about that contradiction, Harry supposed that Snape kept up his nastiness to keep his students in line…

"Hey, Harry!" Neville cheerfully greeted him and then saw the tears that Harry was hastily scrubbing away. "Oh," the Gryffindor looked down at his broom. "Gran makes me cry, too."

Harry took a deep breath. "I won't stay and play like a good little boy, Neville. I left friends at my birthday party at Spinner's End."

"I didn't know it was your birthday."

"I had no idea yours was today either." Harry gave him a wan smile. "Happy Birthday, Neville."

Neville grinned broadly. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

"I've got to get out of here; I've made my friends wait long enough."

The other teen looked crushed at the news and nodded towards the woods. "You'd have to get past the forest if you want to leave."

Harry grabbed his wand from his holster and turned towards the dark forest. "Do these trees completely surround the Longbottom property?"

"Yes, it's a passive home defense. My mum was brilliant at Herbology and my dad at Care of Magical Creatures… It was their hobby of sorts, when they weren't catching Dark Wizards. But Harry, you don't wanna go in there. Trust me, I've tried to run away for as long as I can remember. There's vines that'll drag you into the bushes until Gran gets you and flowers that'll knock you out… Spiders as big as your head, like the ones in the Forbidden Forest, and frightfully dangerous snakes in there, Harry!"

"Snakes?" Harry gestured towards the forest. "Whereabouts would you say they were?"

Face pale, Neville swallowed thickly. He pointed to the left. "North-North-west of here. There's a whole nest of them. Th-they didn't hurt me when they dragged me back to Gran. And Harry," He took a great gulp of air, "Gran's not even a Parselmouth, and they did that! I don't think that they'll let us through even if you talk to them." Neville's voice cracked fearfully.

No matter how likely it was that they were trapped, Harry refused to give up without trying. "Did you want to come with me?"

Neville's brown eyes widened. "You would let me come to your party…?"

"Yes, you've never been nasty to me… Though," he rubbed the back of his sore neck, "It doesn't hurt that you obviously know the forest better than I do."

The Gryffindor looked furtively left and right and dropped his broom. "I've never been invited to anyone's party before, Harry. Let's go before Gran catches us," he whispered.

"Then get your wand out and follow me."

Neville frowned and pulled his wand from the fancy holster strapped to his worn slacks. "But we can't use magic, Harry…"

"Just keep it out; I'll protect you if something happens," Harry said, meaning it. He took off at a rapid jog. Neville treaded heavily after him. Within a minute, Neville was breathing hard, though he didn't complain about Harry's pace.

Breathing only somewhat elevated because of the exercise regime his guardian had insisted he follow since the beginning of summer, Harry stopped at the edge of the forest. Neville put his hands on his knees to mercifully catch his breath. Harry looked around, assessing that he needed to be wary and nothing more. This forest didn't seem nearly as old as the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts, which made sense if it'd only been around since Neville's parents started it.

"Ho-how are we going to get to your house from here, Harry?"

Harry continued into the forest, remembering the tracking skills Snape had immersed him in seven weeks ago to avoid becoming lost. "Have you ever made it out of the forest, Neville?"

"N-no."

"Let's worry about that first."

Minutes passed as they walked into the pathless forest. Harry made sure that they continued on a mostly straight line. It was entirely too easy to go around in circles when one was surrounded by tall trees, and the thick shade blotted out the sun. Harry paused when the area around them suddenly went quiet. He had noticed that there weren't many tracks here. He mostly found the scat of birds, squirrels and rabbits.

Neville grabbed his cloak suddenly. "Harry," the boy whinged.

Harry looked up and saw that there was a whole row of beady, slitty eyes arranged in a circular manner. He turned, head swiveling, and saw that they were hemmed in by snakes. Merlin, they were quiet. It was a bit unnerving.

The watch on Harry's forearm immediately went ice-cold, but before he could check it a very large, silver snake appeared in front of them out of thin air, floating. The Dark creature had a feathery crest at the top of its head running partway down its serpentine neck and back like a mane of sorts. Harry looked up to see that the rest of its thick body was wrapped around a tree branch above them. "Neville, can these snakes become invisible?"

"I… I don't remember." Neville made a noise of fear as he clutched and leaned into Harry's back. "Harry, I don't like snakes!"

"Bear with them a little longer, Neville." Harry turned to the magnificent snake. "_Hello_," Harry hissed, "_We would like safe passage through the forest._" He could feel his classmate trembling behind him.

The snake blinked at him as if surprised to hear Parseltongue. "_Ah, you would, would you?"_

The other snakes around them began to laugh in their whispery manner. "Harry!" Neville sounded as if he were on the verge of panic.

"_Yes, Neville Longbottom_," Harry tripped over the very unwieldy name,_ "and I are thirteen today and will celebrate our birthday elsewhere."_

The reddish crest at the top of the snake's diamond-shaped head flattened and then rose again curiously. "_Happy birthday, younglings. However, we swore to protect his sire and font's territory for allowing our presence, and that includes him. Neville Longbottom must not be allowed to leave._"

"What is she saying, Harry?" Neville whispered with awe when they weren't suddenly attacked and bound up. His trembling had subsided some.

"She?" Harry blinked.

"Yeah, the head-crest on an Opalescent Lionsnake determines the gender," the boy said faintly. _An Opalescent Lionsnake?_ Harry mused. Theodore had said they were Dark and venomous.

"_I promised to protect him,"_ Harry hissed, "_You may come along with me if you want to keep him safe outside his parents' territory."_

The Lionsnake's crest rose higher as if interested by the prospect and then the snake made a short spitting hiss, which caused Neville to jump. Harry's brain translated it into a scoff. "_My place is within this forest. What is your name? I have never spoken to a Wizardling before._"

"_Harry Potter_," Harry thought his name sounded rather neat in Parselmouth, like chains of hisses and inhaled syllables.

She made a loud hissing noise that Harry couldn't quite follow. Was it a slithery whistle or her name? "_But, you may call me June_."

"Harry?" Neville asked quietly.

"She said her name was June."

"Will she let us pass or not?"

Harry noticed movement on the tree trunk closest to them. Two small silver-brown snakes with orange crests were peering at them. "I don't know yet," Harry answered truthfully. Neville's hold on his cloak grew tighter.

_"I will allow you passage, younglings." _June lowered her body further, pointing her nose and forked tongue towards the small snakes. "_Once mature, these two will provide you safety at a destination of your choosing beyond the forest. Give them territory, Wizardling, and they and their descendants will protect it and its true denizens to the end of their line."_

Stepping closer to the small snakes, Harry raised a gentle hand towards them.

"Harry!" Neville's voice sounded strangled. "Be careful!"

_"Hello," _Harry said calmly, ignoring his year-mate's panicked tone.

The snakes bobbed their heads and simultaneously wrapped themselves around Harry's arm under his robe sleeve like a spiraling bracer. Reaching his shoulder, one of them crawled across to his other arm and wrapped around his other bicep, completely avoiding the freezing cold amulet on his forearm. The other popped its head up from his neckline and curled its body to face his eyes. The small crest raised up similar to June's. Harry assumed the snake was female. "_Others of your kind fear us. Do not reveal us. We are too young to protect ourselves._"

"_Got it_." Harry watched as her scales shimmered and then she disappeared. Harry felt her withdraw under his robes. He turned and saw Neville look at him with a horrified expression.

"The snakes are checking to see if I'm a danger to them," Harry lied. Inwardly he was relieved. It appeared his spate of unintentional honesty was done. Whatever potion Neville's Gran had drugged Harry's tea with had worn off. "They've already dropped out of my sleeves. See?" He pulled his robe sleeves back to show Neville. Harry could feel the snakes wriggling, but they were quite obviously invisible.

"Oh," Neville said and then looked confused as he carefully picked up each foot, inspecting the ground.

Harry re-covered his sleeves. "Ready to go?"

"S-sure."

Harry turned to the large hanging snake. "_Thank you, June. I already know a good home for these two._"

"_My First Commander will escort you to the opposite side_." She pulled herself up to her branch. "_Take care, Boy-Who-Survived-Great-Terror-And-Anguish_."

Cheeks coloring, Harry frowned at the Lionsnake, and then it dawned on him why his name had sounded more natural in Parseltongue compared to Neville's. Whatever automatically translated his native English to Parseltongue had done the same to his name.

Neville tugged on Harry's cloak. "Can we go yet?" He asked anxiously.

"Yes," Harry said, his eyes on the large circle of snakes surrounding them. All but one shimmered and disappeared, and Harry could hear them slithering through the decaying plant matter on the ground.

"_I am your escort, Boy-Who-Survived-Great-Terror-And-Anguish_." The non-invisible, extraordinarily large snake had a flatter face and its red crest only had a few rows of quills across, unlike June's. After Harry nodded in understanding, it turned slithering forward, its head at his eye level. From about two-thirds down its body, there were brightly colored red quills that ruffled as the snake moved, ending in a wickedly sharp black-red spine at the end of the silver snake's tail. There were poisonous green lines striped down each side of it.

Unable to stand the cold any longer, Harry quickly slipped off the Bewitched watch and put it in his pocket, while he walked after the First Commander. Neville clumsily followed after him on the uneven ground. They walked for a long time through the dense shade of the forest without encountering anything. It was cool despite being the hottest part of the day.

Harry could see bright sunlight beyond the far trees ahead of them and knew they were close. However, the ground between them and the edge of the forest looked covered with black burrs.

Suddenly a loud, hissing war cry shred the tranquil air, and the black burrs scurried around on eight legs, rearing up on their back legs with glistening fangs. As the First Commander calmly led Harry and Neville to the forest's edge, Harry observed the large dead spiders, lying on their backs with their legs curled up on the ground as they passed. Only a single black-red spine was in many of them.

"Th-this reminds me of Aragog's spawn from last year," Neville said nervously. "Except Ron and I didn't have Opalescent Lionsnakes to help us. I thought we were done for until his dad's car came to save us."

"Aragog?" Harry noticed that Neville had calmed some when the snakes didn't attack them.

"Yeah, Hagrid raised him when he was student, but got caught. Hermione said Hagrid probably wouldn't have been expelled if he hadn't kept raising dangerous and illegal creatures at Hogwarts. Sweet fellow can't really help himself though, can he?"

Hermione had forgotten to mention that tidbit about Hagrid to Harry. He frowned as a little worm of jealousy made itself known that Neville might be closer to Hermione than he was. Harry ruthlessly smothered it.

Ahead of them, a loud hissing of jubilation started and then a strange clacking noise came from around them. "Sounds like they won," Harry said. He saw that the remaining spiders were fleeing.

Stepping into the bright sunlight, Harry was warmed by it. He turned nodding towards the snake, "_Thank you for your help, First Commander. We will remember June's generosity._"

The large snake bowed its head and turned as it shimmered, disappearing.

"What now, Harry? Can I put my wand away?"

"Yes, I don't think you'll need it. Now, we need to find a road," he said, keeping his wand in hand. They crested a hill. For as far as they could see, there was farmland and hilly pastures around them. They couldn't be far from civilization.

Harry trekked down the hill and up a taller one, knowing Neville would follow.


	4. The Snuffling Convict

**_Author's Notes: _**_Another fun chapter. Harry has nerve; I've always liked that about him.__  
_

* * *

At the top of the largest hill, Harry could see a quaint little town below Neville and him. He holstered his wand. "We're going to look out-of-place, but the Muggles won't mind as long as we're friendly. Have you ever spoken to Muggles before?" Harry said turning to look at his sweating classmate.

Neville shook his head. "Only to Muggle-borns."

"Well, don't use any magical terms around them. We've got to be mindful because of the Statute of—" Harry stopped what he was going to say when he had that queerest sensation again, the very same that he'd had in Hogsmeade and at Spinner's End. He turned, yanking out his wand, and pointed it. A giant black mongrel woofed at him, its tail wagging in a friendly manner.

"Oh! A dog! I've always wanted one of those—"

Harry grabbed Neville by the arm before he stepped any closer to the dog-like creature. "Who are you? Why are you following me?"

The black dog's tail wilted slightly, and it whinged in a sad and pitiful manner. It lowered its head and ears as it laid down, panting in the hot sunlight.

"Harry, I don't think he means to hurt us," Neville said in an admonishing tone.

"You didn't see it try to attack me in Hogsmeade," Harry muttered, lowering his wand only slightly.

Ignoring Harry's warning, Neville took something greasy from his pocket and crouched low. "Here boy, I was saving it for later, but you look too thin to me. You can have it."

The dog crawled forward hesitantly and took the meat very carefully from Neville's fingers. The dog chowed on it ravenously. After licking Neville's fingers clean, the dog then thumped its tail wildly when Neville scratched behind its ears. "See, Harry?" Neville said as the dog rolled on its back. "He doesn't mean any harm." The Gryffindor scratched the beast's belly.

Harry sighed. "You can keep him then. I don't like dogs."

The dog made a yipping noise, rolling to sit up. If Harry didn't know any better, the incredibly big dog was giving him a look of consternation.

"If you'd been chased around and bitten by foul-mannered dogs bred by your mean Aunt Marge, you wouldn't like them either." Ears up, the mongrel tilted his head and gave Harry those sad eyes that puppies were notorious for. "You aren't going to change my mind by looking cute," he said firmly.

The dog made another small whinge, looking absolutely despondent, his ears and tail drooping sadly. Harry resisted the strong urge to scratch the mutt behind his ears.

"Oh, give him a little pat on the head at least!" Neville cried. "Can't you tell he wants your attention?"

Harry still wasn't sure what the strange sense he had with the dog was. He hesitantly took a step forward, carefully raising his non-wand hand towards it. "I'm warning you," Harry said uneasily, "No funny business." He flicked his holly wand menacingly at the dog.

His tail limply wagging, the beast raised his head, snuffling towards Harry's hand.

"Step away from him, you fool boy!" A voice yelled out harshly.

The dog went from friendly and benign to snarling and threatening at once. Feeling the snakes tighten around his arms, Harry stumbled backwards at the beast's sudden transformation and landed on his rump. With gnashing teeth, the dog bounded up the hill towards Harry's guardian, who threw stunning spells at it.

Neville looked dumbfounded where he was still kneeling on the ground. His wand still in hand, Harry got up and made shooing motions at the Gryffindor. "Run, Neville!"

There was a noise of gongs and something struck Harry's back with the force of a football; red light sparked over his head. Perplexed at the sparks, it took Harry a moment to realize what had happened. The Spellfast cloak had done its job!

When Neville didn't move, Harry yanked out his magic cloak and pulled it around them.

"What—" Neville asked, sounding disoriented.

"I told you I'd protect you. Now be quiet."

There was a CRACK of Apparation.

Harry wasn't worried when he saw the over-large dog wander back down the hill sniffing around, though the same couldn't be said for Longbottom who made a small noise before Harry shushed him. Alerted to their presence by the noises, the dog walked around and around them. He appeared unable to locate them. The dog sat back onto his haunches and howled piteously.

Beneath the Invisibility cloak, Harry kept his wand uncertainly trained on the dog.

Before their eyes, the mongrel began to melt and reform. Soon, the dog had transformed into a wild-haired, gaunt-faced man, who began to weep.

"Harry! I should have been there, Harry!" He howled madly, tears pouring from his bruised eyes. His greyish pale skin was pulled tight over his cheekbones, nearly hollow where the cheeks should have been. It was Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. The one who was supposed to be in Azkaban but had escaped.

As dark clouds suddenly appeared on the horizon, the escaped convict stood up shakily; the dirty, short-sleeved prison robes hung on Black loosely like Dudley's castoffs had once hung on Harry. There were tattoos wrapped around the adult's throat and shoulders and his elbows were knobby. His translucent white arms were stick-like similar to a house-elf's and largely unmarred. With a loud CRACK of Apparation, the emaciated fugitive disappeared, and the curious black clouds on the horizon vanished.

Neville's eyes were wide with fright. "Harry…" His year-mate whispered. "That was Sirius Black!"

"I know. He's my godfather."

"Your…" Neville choked, "Your _godfather_?! He _murdered_ fourteen Muggles in one go! They found him laughing like a madman among the carnage! Everyone knows he's a Supporter of You-Know-Who!"

Harry took a deep breath. He might have known that if Hermione had ever told him about Death Eaters like she promised. The most curious thing was that Harry hadn't seen anything that looked like brand on either of Black's bared, veiny arms. "Keep your voice down. He's gone now, but that doesn't mean we're safe."

"But I gave him some food and scratched his ears and rubbed his belly," Neville said sounding ill as he stared at his hands like he didn't know who they belonged to.

"You didn't know the dog was Sirius Black, and neither did I," Harry said gravely.

Neville's jaw opened. "That's another thing! Harry… he's an _Animagus_. That's why he was able to escape from Azkaban!"

Frowning, Harry vaguely remembered that term. He knew that magical folk had to register if they were one. "A… what?"

"A person who can Transfigure themselves into an animal! Like Professor McGonagall can turn into a cat! They have to be specially restrained in Azkaban!"

"But if no one knew Black was an Animagus, why didn't he escape earlier?"

Neville looked confused at Harry's pointed question. "I don't know."

Harry thought about the dog's bizarre behavior, docile and gentle with him but absolutely berserk with Snape. "I think you might be right. I don't think Black wants to hurt me."

"But, Harry!"

He thought about the warning to Snape that Augusta Longbottom had given him. "I think he might be after Professor Snape," he concluded.

"But… But Harry…" Neville said much more quietly. "Sirius Black's the whole reason why your parents are dead."

Head coming up sharply, Harry narrowed his eyes at Neville. "What?"

"He was their Secret Keeper to keep their home Unplottable. He had to have personally told You-Know-Who where they were in order for You-Know-Who to… to…" Neville's eyes filled with unshed tears. "A Secret like that can't be passed from anyone but the Secret Keeper, Harry. For your parents to have made him your godfather too… they had to really trust him, trust Sirius Black. And he betrayed them. Betrayed them to You-Know-Who." Neville's face was twisted up; he looked very guilty about it though he would have been Harry's age when his parents were mudered.

As understanding of what Sirius Black had done dawned on Harry, raw hate flooded into him. The dark slick wood felt comforting in his shaky hand. Betrayal was the worst possible thing in the world. His parents had been murdered in cold blood because Black hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut about where they lived?

There was yet another CRACK.

Feeling some of the anger ebb, Harry looked up to see that Snape had returned with Mr. Weasley and an athletic-looking woman with short, spiky hair that rapidly changed colors. Their wands were drawn.

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley called out. "We're here to help. Are you hurt?"

Neville moved to say something. Harry grabbed him before he could. "They could be Polyjuiced," he whispered. He remembered how Hermione and Ron had impersonated Goyle and Crabbe.

Neville's eyes grew even larger. The thought had obviously never occurred to him.

Harry's guardian walked around, eyes on the ground. Professor Snape crouched, touching something on the ground and then looked down the hill where Neville and Harry were standing under the invisibility cloak. "Clever boy," Snape murmured.

Something warm unfolded inside of Harry, but he refused to take the invisibility cloak off until he was sure they were safe.

"What is it, Severus?" The woman asked, her hair a shocking hot pink. "Did you find where they've gone?"

Snape stood up straight. "Before bricking that infernal entrance up, I collected the shedskin and a jawful of fangs."

The statement wouldn't have made any sense to anyone other than Harry, his guardian, and Professor Dumbledore. Without warning Neville, Harry slipped the cloak off of them one-handed and packed it into a pocket. He grinned broadly when his guardian's blank expression hardly changed. Beside Harry, Neville whimpered a little when Snape's coal black eyes swept over him.

"Good gracious!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, coming down the side of the hill with the witch. "You were hiding right under our noses! Are you both alright?"

"Yes," Harry answered calmly and peered over Mr. Weasley's shoulder to see Snape keep lookout for any attackers. "Nothing a hot bath won't fix."

The witch with a pale, heart-shaped face cackled. "Ohh, you look just like I thought you would! Wotcher, Harry!" Before Harry could respond, she turned to Neville. "'Ello! We'll be spiriting you away too!"

"H-hello," Neville said nervously as the witch placed her hand on his shoulder.

"The name's Tonks! And one, two, three!" The witch said brightly. With a loud CRACK, they were gone.

Finally holstering his wand, Harry leveled a look at Mr. Weasley. "We're going back to my birthday party, I hope?"

"Of course, Harry. Where else would you go?" The red-headed wizard placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Then they were spinning wildly. There was a shrieking hiss, and Harry realized with horror that Mr. Weasley had no way of knowing that the snakes were there just as Snape had not cared about the black owl feather. Mid-Apparation, Harry's magic reacted wildly gathering the bits of the Lionsnakes that had fallen behind and snapped them back together.

When they landed on the grassy ground, Harry pitched forward. The snakes were roaming along his arms, hissing in a distressed manner.

"_Quiet!_" He whispered to them. Merlin, he hoped they were alright. He had an awful feeling that he might have missed something, like a snout or an eye. Harry understood why a license was required to Apparate.

Mr. Weasley's hands were immediately on him, grabbing his palms to inspect them. "Are you alright? Have all ten toes and fingers?"

Still dizzy, Harry tore himself away from the questing hands. "Yes. Everything present, sir."

"Oh, no! Your glasses… I'm so terribly sorry, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, "I haven't had such a rough Side-Along Apparation since I was twenty-four!"

Harry reached up and touched the frames still on his face, noticing that the lenses were missing when a finger poked through. The towering, green blurry splotches must be the tall hedges in Snape's garden. "It's fine," he croaked still feeling queasy. With bile flooding his mouth, he leaned over and retched. Thankfully nothing came up from Harry's stomach. He swallowed and straightened.

"We must get inside, Harry," Mr. Weasley said with low urgency as he pulled Harry to his feet. Harry lost his balance and fell to the ground again. The nausea was worse than usual.

There was a CRACK, and long fingers grasped the front of Harry's robes. "Get inside," his guardian said harshly. "Arthur, you may go."

The snakes squirmed against Harry's arms as he stumbled through the open door. Snape moved by him to the sitting room. Harry leaned heavily against a wall to regain his center. He belatedly wondered why Arthur Weasley was back in England so soon. Wasn't he supposed to be in Egypt with his family?

Alone, he hissed quietly, "_Are you alright?"_

"_Yes. Please don't do that again, Wizardling. It will take time to regrow our quills._"

Harry winced. _"Sorry. I can't promise not to. Apparation's about the only way my guardian travels."_

"Master Harry!" Dobby exclaimed next to him.

He nearly jumped straight out his cloak.

"Dobby is so glad you've returned, sir!" The house-elf sobbed out, launching himself at Harry and holding onto him tightly. "Dobby will never, ever leave a package to Master Harry unchecked ever again."

"Dobby—Please—let go." Harry shoved his hands at the clingy little elf.

"Dobby," Nanua's voice crackled across the room, and Harry's house-elf let him go very reluctantly. "Master Harry, you look pale as death. Must've had quite the scare," Nanua's voice crooned. "Come sit with your friends. They've been awaiting your re-appearance." Taking his hand, Snape's house-elf led Harry into the sitting room, which was still crowded with his year-mates.

"There you are, Harry!" Neville's voice exploded happily. "_They_ don't believe you invited me."

"Of course not," Draco's voice said snootily, "Harry doesn't like dumb Gryffindorks like you."

"Or great big cry-babies either," Pansy added.

Neville made a small noise.

"What's the matter with you? Gonna start crying for your mummy, Longbottom?" Draco said meanly.

"Shut up all of you!" Practically blind without the lenses in his glasses, Harry sank into the comfortable, re-stuffed chair that Nanua had left him by. "There is nothing wrong with crying. I cried in front of Neville less than an hour ago. In fact, I've cried loads in the past," Harry said angrily. "If you've a problem with that, you can go. And take your presents with you."

Silence met his ears.

"Now if you don't mind, I'm going to finish enjoying my birthday party. You may stay or you may leave."

A blurry hand reached up and took the frame off Harry's nose. "Your glasses were Splinched," Davis said quietly. "Someone was in a hurry to bring you back."

Harry had never heard of the term before. From context, he guessed that 'Splinched' meant to leave part of something behind during Apparation. "I just escaped an old woman's machinations only to have Sirius Black ambush Neville and I. As I said I would like to finish enjoying my birthday party before any other misadventures begin. Come sit with me, Neville." Harry patted the chair on his right. "Nanua, be sure everything is prepared for an extra guest. It's Neville's birthday today, too."

"Of course, Master Harry," the house-elf said.

Noticing that no one wished Neville a happy birthday, Harry turned to him. "That's alright with you, isn't it?"

From the seat next to him, Neville's blurry form seemed to nod its head vigorously. "I don't have a gift though..."

"It's alright. We can start next year. Why don't I send you a Christmas gift that doubles as a birthday present?"

Neville made what Harry could only term a happy noise.

"Here, Master Harry. I've brought you some tea to help settle your stomach."

Harry took the white object and saucer from Nanua's ill-defined hands and took a long sip. He felt much better. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the flavorful drink. It just occurred to him then that the anti-nausea potion didn't seem to have any aftertaste when put into tea. He was blinking at the contents of the teacup blindly, when Nanua said, "Would you also like me to fetch your spare pair of glasses?"

"Yes, please do." Harry took another deep breath. He heard the shuffling of feet on the carpet as Harry's housemates took a seat, and then Nanua returned placing his Glaxxes in hand. He put them on and everything became clear around him.

His Slytherin year-mates had seated themselves in the chairs around him in the same order, except now a glowering Draco sat on the other side of Neville. The rest were looking at Harry with an odd mix of worry, concern, and eagerness. "Thank you, Nanua."

"My pleasure, Master Harry. Your Birthday Feast will be served shortly."

After too much silence, Harry said with a precisely calm tone, "I hope you were able to entertain yourselves while I was away." He looked at each of the other Slytherins, who shifted under his gaze.

"Are you okay?" Theodore asked hesitantly.

Harry flicked his eyes at Neville, realizing by the tension in the Gryffindor's shoulders that he must be unnerving all of them. "I might be a little stressed," he admitted. "Nanua, my presents!"

One appeared in his lap. "From Draco," Harry said as he inspected the tag. "Exactly _how much_ did you spend on a _bribe_, Draco?"

Draco scoffed in denial as the others chuckled. The tension in the room lessened considerably.

Carefully taking the wrapping off, Harry opened the box. Inside was a small round container made of amber. He opened the clasp and found the container hinged open. A mirror was within it. Harry thought it looked a lot like the kind of compact Muggle girls had for make-up. He peered into it, knowing there had to be something special about it if Draco had given it to him. Alabaster pale skin, a piercing grey eye and a wickedly curved smirk appeared in the mirror, causing Harry to startle violently. The compact dropped into the box. "What the bleeding hell was that?!"

Everyone around him, except for Neville, had a good laugh at his reaction. Harry scowled and waited patiently for them to fall quiet.

Draco held a matching compact made of green, marbled stone. "It's a two-way mirror. This way we don't need letters to communicate to one another."

"_Brilliant_!" Harry said excitedly for he had missed his correspondence with Draco. He picked Draco's gift up and opened it. "Does it work anywhere?"

"I've never heard of any spells that can block them," Theodore answered, when Draco shrugged.

"Thanks, Draco," Harry said, closing it and setting it back into the box.

And on Harry's gift-unwrapping event went. Unsurprisingly, Crabbe's gift was a large box of Chocolate Frogs, while Goyle had decided to forgo sweets this year. His thoughtful gift was a green rubber tube embedded with Slytherin's crest that was made to slip onto a broom handle for extra grip whilst one played Quidditch.

Harry received books from Bulstrode, Davis, Perks, and Nott: _Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming_ by Professor Sibyll Trelawney, _Advanced Quidditch Techniques and Maneuvers For Seekers_ by Victor Krum, translated by Sturgis Podmore,_ Jinxes and Anti-Jinxes _by Professor Vindictus Viridian, and _The Ultimate Compendium of All Dark Creatures Known and Un-Known_ by the Nott Patriarchs.

Harry hefted the last, which was much, much thicker than any other book he ever owned. "Your Dad helped write this?"

"Yes," Theodore answered. "It was my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather who started the tradition. The Notts are a fairly well-known name among certain circles."

Harry thanked him like he'd thanked Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, Davis, and Perks. He wondered if this was what Dumbledore meant by constantly receiving books as gifts…

A long, wide box appeared next in his lap. "From Daphne," he said, reading the card, and then grinned at her. "Are we on first-name basis, now?"

"Only if you wish, _your Grace_," she said teasingly.

"Hey, if you're calling her Daphne, then you should call me Tracey!" Davis complained.

"Don't get wound up. I would rather you all call me Harry..."

"But then we can't call you, _your Grace_," Daphne said.

"That is the catch, yes." Grinning, Harry undid the ribbon and tore away the paper impatiently. Inside were sleek, dark green Quidditch pads. Harry had been wearing secondhand ones provided by the Slytherin Quidditch Team that were overlarge for him and weren't very good at lessening the impact of a Bludger. "Is this a whole set?"

"Enchanted for resiliency and weightlessness. The Enchantments on it should prevent any more broken bones by Bludgers or unfortunate falls," she said beaming.

"Thanks, Daphne. I hope I can still play. With the way things are..." Harry mulled over the likelihood of his guardian forbidding it. His Slytherin year-mates shifted uncomfortably.

"Of course you will, Harry!" Neville said brightly next to him. "You're the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in over a century! It'd be silly not to let you play."

Relaxing, Harry smiled. "I hope you're right." He set the box down and stood up. "Well, that's done. Let's go eat something."

"About time!" Draco announced self-importantly.

Harry laughed and led them through the door to the dining room, which was as magnificent as it had been when Augusta Longbottom had visited. This time there was a large round table covered in an emerald green tablecloth with eleven seats and eleven sets of silver cutlery and delicate china plates. A bulbous glass filled to the brim with ice water and an empty tankard sat by each. Harry took his place where the largest chair was. Neville chose to sit on the left of him, while Draco reclaimed the seat to Harry's right. The others filled in the other chairs in much the same way they had in the living room.

As soon as they had settled into the chairs, the courses of food began and the others began to chitchat, leaving Neville out of the conversation.

Harry picked up his tankard and was delighted to find that it was filled with Butterbeer.

"So, is this what it feels like to be your brother?" Neville asked as Harry took a drink.

Draco nearly spat out his bite of salad. "Longbottom, what are you blathering on about?"

Neville's ears turned bright red. "It's nothing."

"Mrs. Longbottom wants to adopt me," Harry said.

The other Slytherins' conversations died at that announcement.

Eyeing Neville, Theodore muttered, "That certainly explains things."

"You really think his grandmother will win in court?" Pansy asked acidly.

Harry didn't want to answer, but with them he knew he didn't have to.

"Gran's not a Death Eater," Neville said, not knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

"_Ex_-Death Eater," Harry corrected.

Neville looked at Harry and opened his mouth.

"I'd be very careful about what I'd say about my godfather if I were you, Longbottom," Draco's voice cut across the table.

"I was only going to say that Gran believes that You-Know-Who's evil spirit lives on and won't stop attacking Harry until he's dead."

"What's that have to do with anything?" Pansy asked impatiently.

He blinked repeatedly. "Gran says that no renounced servant of You-Know-Who can escape his wrath when he returns."

That hit Harry like a punch to the gut. Was that why Black was trying to kill Snape?

"_When_ he returns, not _if_?" Bulstrode uttered harshly.

"You're right, Milly," Tracey said, "Sounds like Longbottom believes that it's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord rises from the grave."

"My father believes he will," Draco said quietly.

Again, tension lay suddenly thick around the table. Harry wondered if birthday parties were normally this distressing. No one really seemed interested in eating any longer.

Harry downed the rest of his Butterbeer and set the tankard upon the table, hating that his birthdays were cursed. He looked down the table, unhappy to see the long faces. "Would you stand with me if I fought him?"

Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne stiffened in response to his gaze.

At the shocked silence, Harry hesitated, "I," He poked the treacle pudding in his bowl with a spoon. "I have been powerless my entire life until I came to Hogwarts. I don't want to die under the foot of someone else. I'd rather go fighting, and I've only survived this long because of help," he finished softly.

"Morbid words for a child on his thirteenth birthday," Snape said behind him.

Harry spun in his chair and a grin burst on his face. "You're back!"

Snape snorted. "Did you forget who owns the house?"

Everyone laughed, even Neville, who was surprised by the eruption of laughter. He had a pale look of shock at himself, likely that he had laughed at the scary ex-Death Eater's joke.

"Your grandmother is here to fetch you, Longbottom." Snape's black eyes glittered with amusement at this fact.

Neville affixed a stare of terror on the doorway out of the dining room. "Oh, no," He moaned pitifully, holding his head in a distressed manner.

"She can wait," Harry retorted loudly, leaning his chair back on two legs to try to look into the other room, but his view was blocked by Snape who had remained standing in the doorway.

Neville's eyes grew larger, while Harry's Slytherin year-mates waited on bated breath for Professor Snape's reaction.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"She kidnapped me, so I kidnapped Neville. She can bleeding well wait," Harry said reasonably.

Hands dropping, Neville let out a gasp of shock. "You kidnapped me?!"

"Longbottom, you didn't think Harry invited you just for your company?"

Harry let out an irritated sigh. "Draco, Neville _is_ a friend and he _is_ welcome here. You would be smart to learn a bit of humility before you find yourself kicked out." He abruptly stood. "Keep eating. I'll be back shortly." He stalked out of the room past a coolly observant Snape.

He felt his guardian follow him into the sitting room. Harry had a very clear image of the cupboard in his head.

"I don't know how you escaped the forest, but it is _too dangerous_ for my grandson to make unannounced social calls without my supervision," the old woman said tartly, her green eyes stormy.

Harry's pent-up rage boiled to the surface. "_You_ are a miserable, hypocritical old hag! You've told _my _guardian that he's isolated me too much and yet there wasn't a single person at Neville's birthday party!"

"How dare—"

He interrupted her. "If I must, I will live with you, but don't ever think I'll be 'grateful'," he snarled. "I will never greet mistreatment with gratitude ever again. And I will never again ever accept any meals you offer, since you drugged the one cup of tea I had. And when your Guardianship is finalized, Dobby _will_ come with me to prepare my meals."

"I will not be spoken to in—"

"Now!" Harry took a short breath, feeling like a load had been lifted from his shoulders. "I will finish my birthday feast with my _invited _guests and you can either _wait_ here or you can _leave_. Either way Professor Snape will bring Neville to your residence _after_ our combined birthday party is over."

"How dare you speak to me this way!" Neville and Snape's grandmother spat out irately, clutching her red handbag tightly in her grip. "I demand you apologize to me at once for your insolence!"

Harry turned on a heel and was startled to see Snape in the doorway, framed by Harry's wide-eyed year mates. When he had grown so angry, he'd forgotten about everyone else. As the old witch continued to sling enraged words at Harry's back, Harry checked Snape's expression to find his guardian amused, an eyebrow raised with a half-smirk on his lips. Harry relaxed some knowing he wouldn't be punished and sidestepped Snape. Harry's year-mates moved aside so he could retake his spot at the table.

"The exit is behind you, Augusta," Snape's voice said wryly.

A broad smile was restored to Harry's face. He flashed it reassuringly to Neville before digging heartily back into his meal.

"You are the scariest person my age," came Neville's comment. "I can't wait to tell Ron and 'Mione."

Harry laughed. He hoped that Mrs. Longbottom was having second thoughts about adopting him.


	5. Professor R J Lupin

_**Author's Notes: **I'm so reminded of the tale of Blue Beard from writing this chapter. Spooky. And Harry is off to Hogwarts yay! _

* * *

Three weeks later, Harry rolled up the last of his homework he'd needed to complete and put it into his trunk. With a dreary sigh, he stood up stretching his arms up over his head as he looked through the window. Snape had left just that morning, saying that he had to prepare for the fast approaching school term. Nanua was under express orders not to let Harry out of the house. Dobby, of course, had offered to hatch several different, doomed-to-fail schemes to get him outside. Harry had politely declined each time, neither wanting to be kidnapped by his still-at-large godfather nor willing to face Snape's wrath when he found out that Harry had disobeyed him.

Leaning his hands against the windowsill, Harry took a deep breath of the fresh air blowing in gently through the open window. His mind alighted, drifting off to the pleasant thought of flying on his broomstick. Harry sorely missed doing that. It was rather unfortunate that an untrusting Snape had confiscated his Nimbus Two Thousand… Then again, Harry wasn't entirely sure he would have been able to resist the temptation of riding the golden-hued broom. He absolutely loved broomstick flying. At least, Slytherin's letter opener had been returned to him. Harry had been a mite panicked when he realized he had left it at Longbottom Manor.

There was a timid knock on his bedroom door. Harry pushed off and went across the creaky floor to open it.

Dobby looked up at him. "Dobby is sorry to be disturbing Master Harry," he squeaked, clutching his fingers together, "But Dobby senses that Master Harry is terribly bored and lonely, sir."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking down at the house-elf. "I'm not giving you permission to enter my room, Dobby."

Dobby's large face split into a grin. "Nothing is getting past Master Harry," he said proudly. "Dobby thought Master Harry might want to explore the attic?" The house-elf's green eyes gleamed mischievously.

They both knew very well that when Harry's guardian had found him snooping around last summer that Snape had locked the ceiling entrance to the attic with a spell that Harry couldn't unlock whilst Underaged and expressly forbade both house-elves from undoing his magical lock.

"You know I do," Harry said, crouching to be at Dobby's eye-level. "Have you found a different way in yet?"

With an excited squeal, Dobby nodded vigorously and stamped his feet happily. He stretched one of his curled arms and pointed down the dead-end corridor that Harry had traveled down only once before. "Dobby found one…" He leaned forward, and with a hushed whisper said, "It is in Master Snape's bedroom. The closet has an entrance like the one above those stairs, Master Harry." Dobby pointed at the slanted ceiling where the narrow access door was.

Straightening, Harry ventured to the very end of the hall, but there didn't seem to be anything remotely interesting about the wall-papered wall with a dado about Dobby's height painted a light cream. "How do I get in?"

Dobby bounced and pointed at the gas lantern and then soundly smacked himself in the face with the flat of his palm. "Bad Dobby, bad!"

"I told you not to punish yourself," Harry said.

"Sorry, sir…" Dobby's ears wilted, one twisted in each of his skinny hands. "Master Harry's wand—" When Dobby was having the worst trouble speaking any further, Harry knew that Snape must have forbade the house-elf from revealing this secret.

"That's enough, Dobby." Harry pulled out his wand and gave the gas lantern a quick tap. Immediately the illusion of a wall faded away. Harry reached forward and grasped the black doorknob. Twisting his wrist, he was surprised when it opened without any resistance. Inside, it was very dark; all the windows were covered with heavy curtains. Shelves upon shelves of books covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling, wherever Harry looked. An enormous four-poster bed stood in the very center of the room without any hanging curtains on it. Harry stepped in, noticing that Dobby remained outside the doorway. "His closet?" Harry asked when he didn't see a door.

"By the chest of drawers there is a set of poetry books, five shelves up from the floor, sir."

Harry approached the nearly-black wooden dresser and counted. He read the spines that had _Great Poets of the Twentieth Century_ written on them with volume numbers, "I've found them."

"Pull on the spine of the leftmost one, Master Harry," Dobby said uneasily.

Grabbing it and tugging, Harry had to jump back when the bookshelf swung out. In the dim light, he saw a length of rope hanging from the dark ceiling. He reached forward and tugged it down. Immediately a ladder unfolded without any extra effort on Harry's part. "I got it—" Harry turned and saw that the door into Snape's bedroom had closed. For a moment, Harry panicked.

"Psst! Master Harry! Come, come, before we're caught!" Dobby's voice said from above.

Harry quickly climbed the steps and entered the attic. As soon as both feet were flat on the floor, the ladder refolded itself with a clack shrouding Harry in complete darkness.

From the sound of the floor, Dobby was bouncing excitedly from foot-to-foot. "Dobby found this entrance, sir!"

"Good work," Harry said as he looked around blindly. "Can we get more light in here? I can't see anything."

At the snap of fingers, very thick curtains opened up all around them, unleashing clouds of house dust. Harry sneezed violently. Dobby snapped his fingers again, and the air cleared and freshened itself. "Better, Master Harry?"

"Yes," he said, eyes still watering. He blinked as he looked around, recognizing the tall, slanted walls. Was this the same attic? It was much too large… and there was less Muggle _junk_. There were white sheets covering everything and on top of them greyish brown blankets of dust. Harry walked up to a linen shrouding something that was as high as his waist and yanked it off. A large very comfortable couch was revealed. Harry stared at it.

"Oh, Dobby will do the rest, right away, sir!" With a clap of the house-elf's hands, the rest of the linen sheets were removed, causing dust to swirl out everywhere. Harry covered his mouth and nose with a sleeve of his robes.

Another clap and with a roll of thunder a large gust of air breezed through and the windows flew open, depositing the dust outside.

Harry lowered his arms. They were in sort of a sitting room, except there was a small daybed on the second level and a full-length mirror tucked in the corner.

"Well, did Dobby do a good job, sir?"

"Yes. Thank you," Harry said with a faraway distracted tone. He only distantly recognized that Dobby had disappeared with a pop.

There was a large wardrobe, trunk, and chest of drawers. Harry couldn't resist opening them. There were clothes, shirts and slacks in the dresser, cloaks and different-colored robes in the wardrobe. He knelt by the old school trunk stamped with a faded Slytherin crest and lifted the lid. There were so many dried flowers pinned to the top of it that the cloth lining could hardly be seen. There were random bits of wood, pebbles, and an assortment of other knickknacks that Harry didn't know why anyone—especially Snape—would want to keep them. In the corner there was a large stack of what looked to be letters wrapped in twine.

Harry pulled the stack out, closing the trunk lid. Untying the twine, he lifted the first envelope which was addressed to the exact house in which Harry currently resided in the same script that a Dictus Quill wrote. He opened it and pulled out a letter. With a frown, Harry read an exclusive offer for a special magical item that could be his today if he responded by the time the offer expired, which was in the last month of 1979. Carefully folding and putting the letter into the envelope, Harry flipped through the rest of the stack seeing the same quill-script in different inks on the remaining envelopes. His confusion grew exponentially. It was a stack of junk mail; why would Snape keep that?

It was too much of a mystery to pass up. Harry re-tied the twine and stuck the stack of letters into his robes. Snape wouldn't know it was missing if the state the room had been in was anything to go by.

Not seeing anything else to dig through, Harry walked towards the two steps that would take him up to the area that resembled a bedroom. Clutching the railing, he was amazed at the intricate carving etched into the wooden supports and all over the wooden flooring. Why would Snape keep this room locked away?

"Hello, darling. Who might you be?" A feminine voice called out.

Harry looked sharply around but didn't see anyone.

"The mirror, darling."

Drawing his wand, he suspiciously inched towards the full-length mirror. Straight down its front, there was a very large crack in its shiny surface.

"Ah, I haven't had any company besides the occasional bird for awhile. I thought I might've been forgotten," his mirror image said.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, unnerved when his mirror image didn't show his lips move.

The Harry in the mirror smiled. "I'm not a who, I'm a _what_, darling. Now stand up straight and keep your head up!"

Harry blinked dumbly at the Enchanted Object. "What?"

"You're slouching…" The mirror responded as if this were obvious.

He straightened his shoulders hesitantly. "Like this?"

"Yes! My, you look handsome, don't you? Now, chin up. There you are, darling."

The moment he tilted his head back, Harry felt his back lengthen into a less cramped position.

"Very good!" His mirror-self cried, "You'll be a Prince yet!"

Harry frowned at the mirror for he recognized the family name. "Do you belong to a man called Severus Snape?"

"Oh, well," his mirror self said, "Who I belong to is a bit complicated. Technically, not at the present though I _used to_. Does that make sense?"

"Not really." He leaned closer to the mirror, peering at its surface.

"Your eyes…" His mirror self said gently.

He jerked back. "What about them?"

"They're very nice, aren't they? When you aren't pinching them together like that, darling."

Relaxing his eyebrows, Harry put his wand away and took a seat on the bed. "Why've you got a crack on yourself?"

"Shoulders back, chin up. It's not that difficult, is it?"

Harry immediately corrected his posture to the glowing praise of the lovely-sounding mirror. "The crack?"

"Severus wasn't able to fix me completely," the mirror said sadly and then sighed. "I rather miss his handsome profile."

"_Handsome_?" Harry said, unable to stem his incredulity. That was the exact opposite of what he would've used to describe his guardian.

"Very Roman features he has, yes, and fetching with his slightly sun-kissed skin and flowing tresses?"

"Er… No." Harry wondered if they were talking about the same person. "That doesn't describe him at all."

"I suppose he's fallen back on his old habits. Locks of greasy hair? Pale-as-death complexion? Yellow teeth?"

"Erm… _Old_ habits?"

His reflection sighed. "I'm right, aren't I? About his appearance?"

"…Yes…"

"How disappointing," came the exasperated response, "An entire year of hard work _wasted_."

"But he's always looked like that."

"He has?" His reflection looked around the room. "Out of curiosity, what's the date?"

"August 25th."

"Of 1982...?"

"Er, no. 1993..."

"Oh, no. I _have_ lost track of time. The last time I spoke to Severus was October 26th, 1981. Dear me. I wonder what happened?" Harry's reflection smiled warmly at him. "I suppose with your messy hair that you're related to the Potters?"

"Yes. I'm Harry Potter."

"Ah, yes… James and Lilly Potter's son. How are they?"

Harry felt a shot of pain, and he looked down. "They're dead… Murdered by Volde—"

"_Don't say his name!_" The mirror hissed. "You'll bring the Dark Lord's supporters down on our heads!"

Startled, Harry met his reflection's concerned green eyes. "What?"

"You're thirteen and no one's told you about Taboo Magic?"

"I—uh, Vol—er… You-Know-Who's dead."

"Dead?" The mirror sounded doubtful.

"Well…" Harry grimaced. "Sort of. His spirit's tried to kill me twice already. He's angry because his Killing Curse failed to kill me when I was a baby and destroyed his body instead."

His reflection stared at him and then those bottle-green eyes looked up at the unsightly scar on Harry's forehead. "You said… Lily and James Potter… are _dead_?"

"Murdered, yes. Did you know them?"

"I was a wedding gift to them… Well, until James threw me out. He accused me of feeding secrets to the Dark Lord. Myself, I think he was looking for an excuse since I made Lily smile."

"Ah, it was Professor Snape who gave you to them, then?"

"Yes, he did."

"Could you… tell me about them? My parents, I mean?" Harry laid on his stomach onto the bed, holding his chin up with his hands.

"My favorite was Lily of course. Radiant and beautiful, she was very kind-hearted. Before I was gifted to her, she didn't have much self-confidence. Didn't think she was very pretty or useful. She was the sort of witch who liked to _do_ things, darling, but as a Potter wife she was expected to stay home and raise children."

"She wasn't happy she had me?" Harry was sick at the thought.

"Don't even think that! Your mother adored you, loved every moment she had with you. She would sing you lullabies and conjure the most beautiful things to get you to giggle. You were a delightful toddler. I never saw or heard you ever throw a tantrum."

"What about my dad?"

"He was alright, I suppose. He played with you when he wasn't out working as an Auror."

Harry waited for the mirror to say more, but when it didn't he prompted, "He loved me right?"

"You're his firstborn son. Of course, he did."

"Well, tell me about him then."

"He was an insufferable, conceited twit, who was incredibly vain and extremely possessive."

"You're just saying that because he and Professor Snape were enemies," Harry said lightly. "Come on, tell me what he was really like." Harry had never seen his cheek twitch involuntarily before. "I mean, everyone says my dad was a great man and was brilliant at flying the broomstick."

"Yes, everyone said James and Lily made the perfect couple. James was very attractive and charismatic. He could charm a Golden Snidget right out of its nest, if he wanted. No easy task," his reflection said, still not looking very happy to say it.

"Master Harry," a smooth, matronly voice said behind him.

Harry rolled over off the bed to drop swiftly to his feet. "Nanua!"

"You are not supposed to be in here," the house-elf said sternly.

"I… er… you're right." Harry looked abashed.

"Come, Master Harry, dinner's about to be served." She held a hand out to him.

"Remember, shoulders out, chin up, Harry!" The mirror chirped brightly.

"Bye," Harry said to it.

"Take care, darling."

Harry took hold of Nanua's hand. With a snap, she Apparated them to the dining room. He was surprised when he hardly felt sick. He took a seat where a plate waited for him.

"I have added more security features to Master Snape's bedroom. I shall know if you tamper with them, Master Harry."

"I won't," Harry said. He'd have to ask his guardian later if he might have the mirror, perhaps when he wasn't technically banned from the attic. He liked hearing about his parents.

* * *

On September First, Harry leaned heavily against a wall in an out-of-the-way nook at the end of the terminals at King's Cross. Behind Harry, Hedwig squawked her discomfort. He would have preferred to transport her in a different manner, but Harry had learned last year the value of keeping his owl nearby while traveling. "You'd think that'd get easier the more you do it," he said through a watery belch. He was not fond of Apparation, not one bit, especially since he'd had to keep both of the Lionsnakes firmly in his mind whilst he was being squeezed through something incredibly small.

Not having moved from where he blocked the only exit from the niche they were in, Snape scowled down his nose at him. "What creature have you brought with you?" His lanky frame was rigid.

Harry immediately began to think of Quidditch the moment Snape grew menacing. "Why should I? You'll just kill whatever I have," he said indignantly.

"If my first reaction is to kill it, then it _should_ be dead and a thirteen-year-old shouldn't be foolishly attempting to smuggle it into Hogwarts where the wards will eviscerate it regardless. Now," he growled lowly, taking out his wand, "Reveal it."

Harry blinked. He had no idea that Hogwarts' wards could do that… which might explain why the dangerous creatures of the Forbidden Forest didn't sneak into the castle and feast on the magical folk within. "Don't kill them outright okay? I promised them safe passage."

Harry's guardian grimaced. He looked even warier.

Harry hissed a light command for Lucy. He lifted his sleeve, and the small Lionsnake revealed herself in a defensive, protective posture.

Snape's face blanched, his eyes widening slightly. "_Where_ did you get _her_?"

Harry whispered lightly, and she lay down docilely on his arm still quite visible. "The Longbottoms' Forest. There was a nest of Lionsnakes and the Matriarch, June, wouldn't let us through until I accepted these two." Harry had read all about them from Nott's book and had to look up what a matriarchy was to understand the two snakes better.

Harry's guardian stared at Lucy, and then a thought seemed to occur to him and his eyes shot to Harry's. "You have a male as well?" Not once did his wand waver even slightly from the snake.

"Yes. This is Lucy and the other's Sam. He's more skittish." Harry lifted up the other sleeve and whispered more gently to encourage the other to reveal himself. The second snake became visible, but was coiled around Harry's arm like a bracer.

Snape took a quiet step back, his wand disappearing into the folds of his robes. "I will speak with the headmaster," He stated, obviously disliking the idea. "You will have to obtain his permission to allow them to establish Hogwarts as their territory, which I doubt he will deny." His lip had curled up in disgust. If the headmaster had allowed a Cereberus into Hogwarts, Harry didn't think he'd mind a pair of Opalescent Lionsnakes.

Harry hissed to them quietly again and the snakes shimmered and disappeared. He then covered them with his sleeves. "Thank you. I can tell them that the students' dormitories are off-limits if you're worried about that."

"No," the Potions Master drawled, "the dormitories would be the most ideal location to start." He looked around and then stepped out into the bustling walkway, heading toward the platform.

Though puzzled at that statement, Harry followed the much taller adult without another word exchanged, pulling his trunk and carrying the occupied owl cage. Soon enough Professor Snape and Harry arrived at platforms nine and ten. Harry saw no other Hogwarts students, but then he didn't expect to when it was nearly two hours—an hour and thirty-eight minutes early to be exact—before Hogwarts Express departed. Harry's guardian paused at the barrier between the platforms. Once Harry leaned into the brick wall, Snape imitated the movement so that they traveled through the solid metal divider and arrived at Platform nine-and-three-quarters at the same time. Harry looked up to see the scarlet steam engine, Hogwarts Express. Only a little smoke escaped its stack over the smattering of wizards and witches seeing their children onto the train.

"Well, see you later," Harry said turning towards the carriages that held the luggage. He was unsurprised not to hear a farewell over his shoulder. Professor Snape had yet to say goodbye in any form to Harry in the three years he'd known him. As he walked to the train, Harry tried to be friendly to the other students, but for some reason they gave him a frightful look and ducked away from him.

Harry smothered the irritation he felt. Last year had been particularly disastrous for his reputation. Everyone had thought he'd set a basilisk on Muggle-born students because he could speak Parseltongue, the language of snakes. They'd been wrong of course, and when Harry had been given credit for slaying the basilisk and rescuing a first-year Gryffindor five different Harry Potter fan clubs had spontaneously formed… But maybe nasty rumors hadn't ceased about him… Speaking Parseltongue wasn't something good wizards were known for.

Anticipating his trip to Hogwarts, Harry loaded his trunk onto the luggage carriage. He climbed in after the trunk to stow it and Hedwig properly. He took a deep breath. It was freedom of sorts. He'd be able to travel anywhere on the platform and up and down the train carriages as much as he liked without his every movement being closely watched. The Lionsnakes hissed curiously, but Harry knew it was not safe yet to answer them where anyone could overhear him.

He nearly bumped into Professor Snape on the way out of the carriage. His dream of not being dogged at every turn died as he blinked owlishly at the man. It dawned on Harry then that Professor Snape had been the one frightening the other students, not Harry. "I thought you had to get to Hogwarts early?"

"Idiot boy. Do you really think it's safe for you to be left unsupervised?"

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Harry let out a sigh. "I'm not completely useless."

"I beg to differ."

Harry scowled, knowing the Potions Master had a point. Harry had escaped Voldemort three times only with help. The first two times because of his mother's protection, and the last directly because of Snape's interference. Irritated, Harry walked into the compartment carriage. He idly wondered if the Potions Master was going to babysit him the entire trip to Hogwarts as he slid the nearest door open.

There was already an occupant inside, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry had never seen an adult take the Hogwarts Express before. Deciding he ought to take a different compartment, he backed up, right into Professor Snape. His guardian looked down his nose at him and said with disgust, "Sit down. Professor Lupin will ensure your safety."

"Who? Him? But he's sleeping," Harry said gazing curiously at the adult again. The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though his face looked young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.

Harry was shoved forward. "You _will_ remain here until you arrive at Hogwarts." Before he could respond, the compartment door was slid shut. After a final stern look through the glass promising unpleasant consequences should he be disobeyed, Professor Snape left.

While the Lionsnakes squirmed quietly around Harry's forearms beneath his accommodating robe sleeves, he sighed and sat down. He was surprised that Snape would entrust his safety to a complete stranger, until Harry deduced which subject Professor Lupin taught. There was only one teaching position that was open and rumored to be jinxed: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape wouldn't have left Harry with the wizard if he was incompetent like the previous two DADA professors had been… He closed his eyes.

The door slid open noisily. "Harry! Oh," Neville's voice floated to him. Harry had started awake, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry to wake you, Harry. Can I sit with you?" Neville had his toad, Trevor, in his hand.

Nodding, Harry lifted a finger to his lips and looked towards the professor.

"Oh," Neville said with a more hushed tone. The round-faced boy stepped in shutting the door behind him. He sat next to Harry. "Who's he?"

"Professor Lupin," Harry said. Looking curiously out the window, he noticed that the platform was much busier. He wondered how long he had dozed.

"He doesn't look so well, does he?" Neville asked in a whisper.

Harry inwardly agreed. At least the invisible snakes had stopped squirming.

The compartment door opened and a girl of average height with plain brown hair and glasses peered in. Seeing the professor sleeping in the corner, Sally-Anne Perks lowered her voice. "Am I allowed to sit with you?"

"Of course," Harry said.

Sally-Anne shut the door and sat on the edge of the cushion across from Neville. "Scary how someone escaped Azkaban, isn't it?" She looked as if she'd wanted to talk about the break-out for a while. Harry thought she might have abstained during his birthday party out of politeness and also thought it was strange that she wouldn't pen her worries in her letters to him.

Neville made a small whimper. "Scary's an understatement."

"I hope they catch Black. He's a menace," Sally-Anne said darkly.

Harry had no intention of letting Sirius Black get caught by the authorities before he had his chance to talk to the madman. If Black was so desperate to see him, Harry might be able to glean information from him about Voldemort's other supporters. One thing he learned from his studies was that knowledge was power, and the power of knowing his enemies like a longtime friend might help him survive other attempts. Obviously, he couldn't ask Snape outright; the wizard thought he was incapable of making sound decisions in regards to his safety. In addition, any books on Voldemort's supporters would only have information on the _known_ supporters that had been caught and sentenced.

A tense sort of silence filled the compartment long enough that Sally-Anne spoke again. "Well," she continued, "I can't wait to visit Hogsmeade this year. I've never been. I heard there are these marvelous shops, and the most severely haunted building in all of Britain, the Shrieking Shack, is there."

"Yeah, there's this amazing sweetshop called Honeydukes. They've got Pepper Imps and Cockroach Crunchies and Butterscotch Gargles and Sugar Quills—" Harry recounted.

Neville interrupted, "—And massive Chocoballs full of strawberry filling and clotted cream that make you cluck and Sherbert Balls that make you levitate while you suck them and—"

"Sounds nice," Sally-Anne said abruptly. "I'm more interested in the Shrieking Shack. Have either of you seen it?"

"I've never heard of it," Harry answered.

The Gryffindor's eyes widened in a comical manner as he shook his head side to side. "I don't like haunted places… especially when they're rumored to have nasty poltergeists like the Shrieking Shack," Neville said breathlessly.

Someone smacked their lips and cleared their throat; Professor Lupin was stirring. They watched him apprehensively, but then the wizard simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

"But rumor has it that the Shrieking Shack had its heyday in the late seventies. It hasn't been nearly as active since," Sally-Anne said despondently.

"Do you like haunted places?" Harry was curious as she'd never come off as the sort to like spooky things, but then he remembered how she had spoken to Moaning Myrtle last year and it didn't seem so strange.

"Oh, yes. I find ghosts and poltergeists and boggarts all very fascinating. My family has a long history of exorcising Dark spirits and ghosts. Before my father was born, my grandfather was well sought after even by Muggles."

"But I thought that… doesn't that break the Statute of Secrecy?" Neville sounded horrified.

"He was an ordained Catholic priest, just like his father had been and his father's father. Muggles know that priests can exorcise nasty spirits from property or a person. Ergo, it's not breaking any Wizarding laws," Sally-Anne said matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Neville said. He did not look like he knew what a Catholic priest was.

"But you can't be a Catholic priest if you're a girl," Harry said.

She shrugged callously. "I'll pose as a Wiccan, then."

"I know what those are. Aren't they Muggles pretending to be witches and wizards?" Neville said with a puzzled frown.

Sally-Anne grinned at the Gryffindor. "Well, Squibs have been known to join such covens, so it's not that _strange_... It would be a perfect cover, wouldn't you agree?"

Neville looked uncomfortable.

"How much longer until the train starts?" Harry asked them.

They both blinked at him. "I arrived on the platform roundabout ten-thirty," Sally-Anne said. "It must be close now."

Lucy hissed softly, "_Boy, we are most parched… Could we have something to drink?_"

Harry sighed, hissing on that single exhale an apology and an estimated time to get a drink. They were still hours away from Hogwarts. Before he had Lionsnakes, Harry had never realized how difficult it was being responsible for two totally dependent creatures. He was ready to let them free so he didn't have to worry about them any longer.

"What's the matter? Bored?"

Harry smiled lightly at Neville. "It's nothing.""

The door slid open again and their eyes turned to see Draco Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco eyed the compartment and apparently ascertained that it wouldn't be able to hold all of them. "Longbottom, Perks, Out. I have something to discuss with Harry."

"Neville, sit down," Harry commanded, and the stout Gryffindor slowly lowered himself back onto the seat. "Draco, these seats are first come, first serve. If you want to sit by me so badly, next time come early."

"It's _important_," Draco said more insistently.

"It can wait. I don't spend all school year in the same dormitory as these two."

Draco turned to the plain-looking Slytherin. "Perks, I'll make this easy for you—" He started with a threatening tone, but Professor Lupin gave a snort. Draco's eyes darted to the adult and he took an automatic step back. "Who's that?" Harry was surprised that he hadn't seen the full-grown wizard before he opened the door.

"New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I expect," Harry stated calmly. He got to his feet. "What were you saying? You'll make what easy for Sally-Anne?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. He wasn't fool enough to pick on students right under a teacher's nose. "We'll talk later, Harry." He turned to Crabbe and Goyle and with a resentful tone told them, "Let's go."

The door slid shut once again, and Harry sat back down.

"This year, I've resolved not to put up with his disrespect. The next time he does that I'm going to challenge him to a duel."

"It does seem to be the only way he respects anyone."

Neville looked between them with a puzzled look. "Duel?"

"Professor Snape holds monthly duels for the Slytherin House to sort out our differences. Only first years aren't allowed to participate," Harry explained.

"And it keeps us sharp since…" Sally-Anne's brown eyes darted to the teacher sleeping soundly near them. "Since we don't have a reliable curriculum on offensive and defensive spellwork."

"I would love to know some spells so Draco wouldn't bully me anymore. You know he stuck my legs together our first year? I had to hop the whole way to the Gryffindor common room," Neville said.

Harry winced. That certainly sounded like something Draco would do.

The train let out a shrill whistle and suddenly shuddered forward. Harry nearly toppled out of the seat. _Finally!_ He thought.

The door slid open again, drawing the trio's attention. "Harry!" Hermione crowed and threw her arms around his neck. "We missed you last Wednesday in Diagon Alley. It's a shame that Professor Snape didn't let you come see us."

Though immensely glad to see her, Harry shushed her and then glanced over his shoulder pointedly. "He's asleep."

His bushy-haired friend from Gryffindor pulled back and with a peculiar expression on her face stared at the adult. Then her eyes flicked around the cabin, and she grinned. "Professor R. J. Lupin."

"How'd you know that?" Ron—who was behind her—and Neville asked in stereo.

She pointed at a battered case in the rack above the man's head. "It's on the side of that." There was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

"I bet he's replaced Lockhart!" Ron said brightly. "I still can't believe that lout tried to use a Memory Charm on me. My mum was so furious that she burned all his books."

Harry nearly choked. She could have sold them for a reasonable amount, and the Weasley family sorely needed the money. "Er, did you get a new… wand?"

"Yes! Look at this!" Ron pulled out a thin box from his robes. He opened it as he spoke. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair." He carefully closed the lid on it and placed it protectively back into his robes. Harry certainly didn't blame him, not when all last year Ron's wand had failed to do the simplest spells. The Gryffindor seemed much friendlier to Harry than he had same time last year.

"You're going to have to use it sometime, Ron," Hermione said with exasperation.

"I'll wait until we have some lessons," he said defensively.

Sally-Anne giggled. "If it were me, I'd spend the entire trip getting used to my new wand."

Startled to see that there was another occupant, Ron shot her a look.

"I've been telling him exactly that, but he won't listen to me," Hermione said airily. "I'm sorry. Have we met before?"

Sally-Anne smiled sadly. "We take Double Potions together."

Hermione frowned. "You're in Slytherin?"

"I'll swear on Sally-Anne's behalf that she's been here since our first year," Harry said solemnly.

"That's right. There's some stupid Slytherin rule about being friendly with other houses, isn't there?" Hermione looked at the two Slytherins.

"Did Harry tell you that?"

Harry shook his head at Sally-Anne's pointed look. He hadn't told Hermione about it.

"Penelope Clearwater told me last year before we were Petrified, and I think Julianne Dresden told _her_. I think the whole school should know about it now," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"You were Petrified?" Harry said hollowly.

Everyone turned their eyes on him. Sally-Anne pressed her fingers to her lips. "Oh. That's right, you were sent to the infirmary just as we returned from the canceled Quidditch match. You wouldn't have known at all because by the time you brought Ginny Weasley back those who'd been Petrified had been cured."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly.

"I was in the library when it happened." Hermione smiled. "If Madam Pince hadn't screamed before she'd been Petrified, I wouldn't have thought to bring my mirror out." Hermione turned her attention fully on Sally-Anne. "I'm sorry I didn't remember you. What with Bulstrode's feud and Parkinson and her two cronies acting so rude, I apparently tuned everyone else out."

"I understand," Sally-Anne said and then smiled at the two standing Gryffindors. "Have either of you ever visited Hogsmeade before?"

Ron shook his head. "I heard there's this wicked good joke shop called Zonko's."

Hermione grinned. "Neither have I, but I heard it's the _only_ entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain. In _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says Hogsmeade has an inn that was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely—"

"Haunted building in Britain," Sally-Anne finished with a broader smile.

"It's nice to know that I'm not the only one who reads for leisure," Hermione said.

"Urgh, _reading_," Ron said, making a gagging noise.

"Oh, quiet!" Hermione shushed him again when Ron carried on a bit more. She decided to ignore him when he continued making rude noises. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?" Hermione looked so happy gazing at all of them that Harry nearly kept his mouth shut.

"You'll have to tell me when you've all gone," Harry said heavily.

Neville frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"I can't go. Professor Snape refused to sign my permission form."

Ron and Neville looked horrified, Ron more so than Neville. "_You're not allowed to come?_" Ron said incredulously. "But you—Someone's got to be able to sign your permission form! You must be good friends with the headmaster if you gave him a pair of socks. Why don't you ask him?"

Harry laughed though it sounded a bit hollow. "It's okay. I went once for my twelfth birthday. There's this Quidditch shop called Three Hoops that's fantastic."

"Wait… Is Professor Snape still annoyed that you were framed by a house-elf for the use of a Hovering Charm near you last year?" Sally-Anne asked him.

"No. I was already grounded for a month for that; it's because—"

"That _greasy git_," Ron growled. "It wasn't even your fault!"

"Well, if a house-elf stalked you and then made it look like you destroyed merchandise with magic, you'd've wanted to stay inside too," Harry said reasonably.

"I don't get you, mate," Ron said shaking his head.

"And really, it could have been worse if I _had_ brought my wand."

All four of his fellow students gasped at that.

"That's _very dangerous_, especially for you, Harry! What were you thinking?" Hermione's hands were propped on her hips.

"Why else do you think Professor Snape grounded me? His exact words were:" Harry made his voice very nasal and nasty, "_Perhaps by the time your record is cleared you'll remember you're a famous wizard and not a middling Muggle_."

Ron's face was so red with indignation that he looked as if his head would pop off. "That—"

Sally-Anne's sudden laughter shrilly interrupted whatever Ron was about to say. She gasped for breath. "Oh! I feel sorry for Professor Snape. You're always getting into trouble!"

Harry scowled. "Not on _purpose_."

"Gran says you've survived more attempts on your life than she has and she's nearly seventy-six. Coming from her that's praise."

Harry grimaced at the mention of that woman. Sally-Anne eyed him curiously before Harry took on a more neutral expression.

"I could ask Fred and George to help you out," Ron said heatedly, "They know _every_ secret passage out of the castle—"

Sally-Anne perked at that as did Harry, but Hermione called "Ron!" out very sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose—"

"Yeah, that's _exactly_ the reason Professor Snape implied when I was denied permission to visit Hogsmeade," Harry said dryly.

"But if _we're_ with him," Ron said spiritedly to Hermione, "Black wouldn't dare—"

"Don't talk rubbish! Black's already murdered a bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you _really_ think he's going to worry about attacking Harry just because _we're_ there?"

Professor Lupin stirred again; this time a foot moved. The carriage went quiet as they apprehensively watched him.

"We're third years," Sally-Anne whispered solemnly. "We're no match for someone who doesn't think twice about killing others."

Ron huffed as he pulled his squirming rat from his robes. "Let's get back to our compartment, Hermione. Scabbers is restless. I'm worried about his health as it is."

Harry eyed the grey rat. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's been a sluggish ever since I brought him back from Egypt. I showed him to a witch who specializes in magical pets and she thinks it's his old age." He looked towards Harry's curious expression. "Scabbers is twelve. He's been in my family since Charlie found him. If it wasn't for that blasted Kneazle—"

"Well, I'm glad we've had this nice chat, Harry."

Harry nodded towards Hermione. "See you la—"

"I'm not done," Ron exploded.

"Crookshanks is a Kneazle. It's in his nature to chase rats," Hermione mustered in a semi-polite tone.

"Look at him!" The Gryffindor said waving his fat grey rat at her, "He's balding because of that foul beast!"

Choosing not to bother with a response, an annoyed Hermione smiled at the only other Slytherin in the compartment. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sally-Anne."

"Likewise," she said with a short nod.

"I'll see you at the start-of-term banquet?" Hermione asked Neville politely, while Ron continued to vent loudly about Hermione's crotchety orange cat.

"Of course! I've got loads to tell you!"

Ron let out a really aggravated groan at being ignored.

"Are you done?" Hermione finally said, turning to Ron who was clutching Scabbers to his chest protectively.

"Not nearly."

She exhaled loudly, sliding the door open behind her, and dragged a ranting Ron down the corridor.

A minute of silence filled the compartment as they looked at one another, hoping that someone would start up a new topic of conversation. "I'm glad they're gone," Sally-Anne said, "They're worse than my parents."

"Don't tell _them_ that. They'll yell at you for it. They say they're just friends, but I've never met friends like _that_," Neville said.

"Er, Neville," Harry said slowly.

"What is it?"

"About the feast… If you're going to tell Hermione what I think you are, you really shouldn't tell her, or anyone else for that matter."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a secret no one else knows. So, in case someone tries to impersonate either of us with Polyjuice, then we'll be able to tell." Harry knew that Sally-Anne was watching them with keen perceptiveness. Harry didn't want her or anyone else to know that Black was an Animagus…

"I hadn't thought of that..."

"Besides, the adults will figure it out soon anyway," Harry added. "They're not all stupid."

"I guess not," Neville agreed.

"So you'll promise not to tell?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Harry smiled. After thinking about it more Harry decided it wouldn't be that hard to lure the mass-murderer into a trap and turn him over to the authorities after Harry'd had his chat. After witnessing the man crying out for him, Harry thought he might be able to extract other answers from Sirius Black. Like _why_ had he betrayed his parents? It seemed senseless if Black expected Harry to trust him as his Animagus form appeared to present. Pointless when Black was the reason why Harry's parents were dead. Then again, the dementors in Azkaban could have driven Black mad. Harry had read about them, about dementors, in _The Ultimate Compendium of All Dark Creatures Known and Un-Known_ Theodore had given to him for his birthday. He'd been fascinated by the Ministry standard of quintuplet Xs that conveyed that they were considered as dangerous as dragons, basilisks and acromantula…

Sally-Anne frowned at Harry. "You're plotting something."

"Am I?" Harry said loftily.

"Harry, _swear_ you won't go looking for Black. I don't want to lose you," Neville said abruptly.

"Why on Earth would I want to do that?"

"Because you would. I don't know _why_."

"That was a rhetorical question, not meant to be answered."

Sally-Anne's eyes darted from Harry and then to Neville and back again. "Is this about your adoption being contested?"

Harry dropped his face into his hands, hating to be reminded.

Neville looked a little frightful at the mention of that. "You've got to keep it to yourself until the court's made its decision."

Harry turned his head at Neville with a look of incredulity. The Gryffindor told everyone at Harry's birthday party as if it hadn't mattered at all.

"You will keep it a secret, won't you?"

"Of course. We Slytherins are expert Secret-Keepers," Sally-Anne said, "I swear I won't tell a soul."

Neville let out a calming breath. "Good. Gran could get in a lot of trouble for that."

Harry and Sally-Anne exchanged a glance. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly at her. She gave him an innocent look back. He knew it was far too late to hope that his Slytherin year-mates hadn't told their parents…

"Sweets!" A voice cried.

Harry looked up happily. The plump witch with the food cart had arrived. He ordered a bottle each of pumpkin juice and water and a stack of cauldron cakes, paying for them promptly.

"You think we should wake him?" Neville asked gingerly. "He looks too thin to me."

The three Hogwarts students looked at their shabby professor sadly.

"Don't worry, dears," the witch said as she handed Harry the drinks and a large stack of cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

Neville leaned forward, eyeing the man worriedly. "At least he's still breathing," he whispered as he took the cauldron cake Harry passed to him.

"Yeah." Looking out the rain-streaked window, Harry opened the glass bottle of water, hissing quietly. He felt the snakes slither up to the collar of his neck and out and over. Harry watched as the water indented as each of them took a drink. Lucy hissed her thanks and the both of them curled back under his robes. Harry capped the bottle, setting it aside. He opened the other drink and took a long sip of the pumpkin juice without his classmates being any wiser of the Dark creatures on Harry.

He settled in for a long ride to Hogwarts.


	6. Dementor Sweep

_**Author's Notes: **This arc will only get updated daily, guys. Gives me time to look over each chapter before posting, and I'm super busy (even though it doesn't seem like it because of quick updates). Thank you for your reviews, favorites, PMs, and follows. It's always nice to get feedback when it's not expected._

* * *

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery had grown wilder and darker as the clouds outside thickened. The lanterns had flickered to life inside the compartment and out in the corridor when the thick dark grey clouds turned even darker. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still Professor Lupin slept.

Harry glanced over the professor while Sally-Anne and Neville ate the cauldron cakes. The professor might not have been very good company, but his presence had its uses. Harry inwardly winced. By the by, he was beginning to sound more Slytherin with each passing year. He hoped he didn't forget his chess pieces were _people_ by the end of his seventh year…

Pounding footsteps sounded outside the door, and Theodore Nott slid open the door, his eyes on Sally-Anne. "There you are!"

Harry didn't shush him since he figured that if the rain beating down loudly on the carriage hadn't woken the professor then he didn't think much would.

Sally-Anne scooted closer to the professor, and Theodore stepped in, sliding the door shut behind him. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He plopped down next to her and across from Harry, not looking the least bit interested in the stranger in the compartment. "Hey, Harry."

"Hullo, Theo."

"Hi, Theodore."

Ignoring Neville, Theodore gestured towards Harry and leaned towards Sally-Anne. "Why's he look so glum?"

"Could be the weather," Sally-Anne suggested with a smirk.

"Oh come off it! _You_ know what's wrong," Theodore said.

While Theodore wheedled a strangely tight-lipped Sally-Anne, Harry patted Neville's shoulder. "Rule One when dealing with Slytherins: Don't address us by our first name unless you have permission. It's considered rude. To you, Theo's name is Nott."

Neville's hurt expression melted into confusion.

"Go on, try again," Harry encouraged.

"Er, hi Nott."

"I only asked you a simple—Hey, Longbottom," Theodore interrupted himself mid-sentence, flashing the Gryffindor a smile, "Like I said, I only asked you a simple question and you've completely refused to answer it. What've I done to you?"

Sally-Anne simply smiled as if she hadn't heard a word Theodore had said.

Neville blinked. "That's it? But," he took a deep breath, "I didn't ask you."

"You didn't have to. You've been nice to me since you've met me without having other motives," Harry answered honestly.

"Well that explains how I fell into your good graces so quickly," Sally-Anne said nosily.

Stopping mid-tirade, Theodore shook his head. "How many people are truly like that? We all have our ulterior motives."

"Some worse than others," Harry responded harshly, thinking of Draco. He drank the rest of his pumpkin juice. It was only supposed to be late afternoon, and yet the windows were completely black as if it was night-time with a new moon. Abruptly, the train started to slow down. Harry's eyebrows drew down. They couldn't be there yet…

"Great," Neville said brightly, "I can't wait to get to the feast!"

"We can't be there yet," Sally-Anne said.

"Then why's the train slowing?"

The Slytherins exchanged glances. Why _was_ the train slowing? As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and the rain crashed against the windows, louder than ever.

Harry was beginning to get a bad feeling. As he and Theodore were nearest to the corridor, they opened the door and looked out. All along the carriage, curious heads were looking out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks in the luggage carriage behind them. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged in total darkness. Neville whimpered next to Harry.

"What's going on?" Sally-Anne whispered tightly. "Has the train broken down?"

"I don't think so," Harry said as he felt his way back to his seat.

"Harry. Oh bugger, there's something _really _dark coming. Can you check—"

"Ow, Neville!" Harry snapped at the Gryffindor. "Get off my hand!"

"Sorry," Neville's voice was so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear it. "What does Theo—Nott mean, Harry? Check what?"

"Can you check to see what's going on outside?" Harry asked, digging through his pockets. It was only then that he remembered he'd put the Bewitched watch in his trunk. Harry could've hit himself. Why was it that he always forgot something extremely necessary when he most needed it?

"No, everything's black," Neville answered. "Should I—go find Hermione?"

"That wouldn't do any good." Harry heard the door slide open.

"_Lumos_," Theodore cast, and Harry could see it was Ginny Weasley, who blinked painfully in the sudden light.

"Harry, are you in here?" She squinted at them.

"You should've stayed put in your compartment," he told her.

"I thought maybe you knew—"

"Neville, move over, so she can have a seat."

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said warmly. No sooner had she plopped down on Harry's left, a hoarse voice cut through them all, "Be silent."

Professor Lupin seemed to have woken up at last. No one spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a brighter light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared in the soft blue glow, holding a handful of flames, which illuminated his tired, grey-tinged face with a pencil mustache. In the half-light, Harry saw the remnants of a terrible scar across his face. His grey eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet.

Harry gasped as the air suddenly grew frigidly cold. Theodore's Lighting spell dimmed and went out. Beside them, the door slid open. He looked up in Lupin's dimming magical fire and saw a cloaked figure nearly brush its head against the ceiling. The figure's face was completely hidden beneath his hood, breathing hollowly. Harry's eyes darted downwards, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in the water…

_Dementor!_ His mind screamed at him.

But the hand withdrew back into the black cloak as though the creature beneath the cloak had sensed Harry's gaze. It drew in another long, slow rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. _Happiness!_ His mind screamed. _It eats happiness!_

Trevor shrieked out a croak, and Neville whimpered. Ginny had tightly pressed herself next to Harry. Harry saw Theodore and Sally-Anne's equally terrified expressions.

The intense cold must have frozen Professor Lupin in place, who stood there with glaring eyes.

Harry saw their breaths puffing out misty whiteness and felt his own breath catch in his chest. The snakes on both arms were as still as death. Harry feared for them. This cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his very heart. "No!" Harry croaked out as he saw the dementor lean over him. His eyes rolled up into his head. It was feeding off of him! He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water, and he was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

And then, from faraway, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help her, whoever it was; he tried to move his arms, but couldn't… It was as if a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him—

Laying on a cushion, he stirred, his head feeling stuffed with wood dust.

"Harry! Are you alright?"

Harry opened his eyes. There were lanterns above him, and the cushion was shaking beneath his cheek. The Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights were on. He must have fallen over. He sensed that others were around him, hovering. Disoriented, Harry sat up, realizing his glasses had fallen off when he went to push them up his nose and found them missing. His skin felt cold and clammy beneath his fingers. From his symptoms he knew he'd been attacked by a dementor as he'd read in _The Ultimate Compendium of All Dark Creatures Known and Un-Known_.

Theodore and Sally-Anne's faceless heads were the first Harry saw. Theodore handed him his Glaxxes, bringing their faces into focus.

"Here, eat this. It'll help," Professor Lupin said holding out a bar of dark brown chocolate. Harry took it carefully.

"Are you okay?" Neville repeated nervously, eyes darting to the two Slytherins who hadn't bothered to ask.

"Yeah," Harry said looking towards the door, eating the chocolate. The moment it touched his mouth he began to feel better. Thank Merlin that the dementor was gone. "Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," Ginny said more nervously than Neville.

Harry looked around the bright compartment that was considerably cramped since he'd taken up the whole bench when he fell over. Everyone except for Professor Lupin looked back at him with various levels of queasiness.

"You didn't hear anyone?"

"No, Harry," his roommate said.

Harry hated being stared at.

Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "Finish that," he said. "I need to speak to the driver, excuse me." The tired professor squeezed past the five students.

Harry felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu. Even the large bar of chocolate didn't seem to help entirely.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Neville asked, watching him anxiously.

Harry cleaned the drying sweat off his face. "Why are all of you looking at me like that?"

"Well—that thing—stood there and looked around, I think—and you—you—" Ginny stammered, flushing when she couldn't finish. "You went sort of rigid, like you were having a fit," she continued. "And you fell onto me, twitching—"

"The dementor attacked you," Theodore stated simply, looking quite apprehensive.

"Professor Lupin must've realized what was happening. He had to cast a Patronus Charm to send it away," Sally-Anne said.

"It was horrible!" Ginny said, letting out a small sob as she fell back onto her seat and wrapped arms around her midsection. "I couldn't stop shaking until he gave me some chocolate."

"It was like I'd never be cheerful again," Neville said miserably.

Harry didn't understand why the dementor had attacked him specifically instead of continuing to indiscriminately feed from all of them. Surely, the others had richer, happier memories? He also felt the beginnings of shame, when it became apparent that he had passed out. Why had he gone to pieces like that when no one else had? The book only said fainting spells resulted from a weakened body and mind. Harry didn't think he was _weak, _far from it_._

"Why were there _dementors_ on this train?" The sound of the door opening didn't cause Harry to look up. "I thought they were supposed to stay by Azkaban."

They looked squeamish.

"They were searching for Sirius Black." Professor Lupin had come back. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry didn't tell Professor Lupin not to use his name so informally. He looked up and smiled and, though he didn't feel it at all, he made sure his aura showed it. "I'm fine."

"So you're our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Theodore had opted to fill in the uncomfortable silence that had befallen the five Hogwarts students.

"Yes. My name is Professor Lupin. I'm terribly sorry I didn't take up the post sooner. I had other engagements to iron out."

"Your Patronus charm was executed superbly," Sally-Anne complimented. "If you hadn't, Harry would've…" She looked sickened at the thought.

Harry shuddered to think of receiving a Dementor's Kiss. Dementors sucked the life right out of you, the part of someone that animated a person and made them more than just a living sack of fluid and organs.

"Professor, what _are_ dementors? I've heard stories about them, but… Why do some people react worse than others?" Ginny asked quietly.

"They are Dark creatures that force us to relive our worst memories. They feed off any happiness, any good feeling a person has," Professor Lupin nodded to himself. "Only someone who has witnessed true horrors in their life is so deeply affected by a dementor's presence. Wouldn't you say, Mr. Nott?"

Theodore nodded. "Da's made sure I've… never been in harm's way of any Dark artifacts or creatures he's newly discovered."

"I haven't witnessed anything terrible," Sally-Anne admitted.

"Neither have I," Neville said.

"I believe the same cannot be said of the both of you, hm?" The thin professor looked at Ginny kindly.

"I was possessed by a diary, made to do awful things last year at Hogwarts," Ginny whispered.

"A horror that very few could scarcely imagine. You are not weak, Ginny."

Harry swallowed when the professor turned towards him. "And you, Harry?"

He refused to answer, looking at the somber expressions on the others' faces.

"I've heard from the headmaster that you've faced down death each year you've been at Hogwarts," Professor Lupin said conversationally.

Harry gave the professor a level stare. "Only because Voldemort didn't get his way when I was a baby. Now, he wants to finish the job."

Blinking with surprise at Harry's unfriendly expression, Professor Lupin stated evenly, "I'm not your enemy, Harry."

"With all due respect, professor," Theodore interrupted, "You can't really expect to win him over so easily. Professor Quirrell tried to kill him his first year and Professor Lockhart absconded with him every chance he got."

The professor chuckled at that. "So I've been told."

At long last, the train was beginning to slow without a dementor in sight. Finding the compartment stifling with the attention on him, Harry stood up and opened the door. He leaned his hand on the wall to balance himself as the train slowed to enter Hogsmeade station.

"Harry! Where're you going?" Ginny's voice called.

Ignoring her because he didn't want to talk anymore about the dementor attack, Harry noticed fairly quickly that no one was taking their luggage; so, he pulled up the hood of his Spellfast cloak and hopped off the stopped train onto the platform. Along with the students were their owls, cats, rats, and toads. It was freezing; rain was driving down upon him in icy sheets. With the Spellfast cloak though, it only felt icy to Harry. His breath was coming out in great misty puffs; he tucked his fingers under his arms to stay warm, hating the reminder of the dementor's effects.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry turned to see the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed through the rain, over the heads of the crowd.

He waved and nodded, wishing the half-giant hadn't done that. The soaked first years were staring at him with well-recognized idolization. The mass of others around him shunted him off the platform, and Harry didn't resist the flow of the crowd. He wondered what form of transportation the rest of the students had taken to get to Hogwarts grounds since he had missed it last year due to a blocked barrier to Hogwarts Express. Only first years took the boat across the lake.

He saw now that there was a rough muddy track made worse by the unrelenting rain, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students. Harry saw that each were pulled by a creature standing between the carriage shafts and harnessed to the coach; if he had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their sopping wet black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were the most reptilian part of them, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither—vast, leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the rain, the creatures looked sinister.

Harry watched as at most four students would climb into a stagecoach and shut the door. Then, the eerie horse would set off, pulling a bumping and swaying stagecoach behind it. He was surprised that no one seemed to be talking about them, not even second years.

Wanting to get to the start-of-term feast as soon as possible, Harry climbed into a stagecoach after three others. It smelled faintly of mold and straw. When he pulled down the cowl, Harry found some familiar faces: Lisa Turpin, Padma Patil, and one other girl Harry didn't know, all Ravenclaws by the insignia on their robes. "Hullo, do you mind if I sit here?"

Across from him, Turpin and Patil looked at one another and then shook their heads. The girl with straggly, waist-length, very blond hair and pale eyebrows answered, though that was all Harry saw of her over the magazine. "Of course we mind, since you like snakes so much. If I was a snake, I don't think I'd have minded." The girl never lowered _The Quibbler_.

He raised an eyebrow and sank into the seat next to the strange girl, shutting the door. He lurched forward as the coach took off, while the other two girls tittered.

"Don't mind Luna Lovegood. She's a year younger than us," Patil explained.

"She says she had a bad summer break," Turpin stated.

"Dad and I had an infestation of Nargles and Wrackspurts," Lovegood said sullenly from behind her magazine.

"Neither of those creatures have been discovered to exist yet," Turpin told Harry solemnly.

"Though their existence has been theorized by several notable magical persons, including Rowena Ravenclaw," Patil added.

"I made special glasses so anybody can see them." Lovegood promptly put the magazine down to open her bag. Harry noticed that her eyes were protuberant, which gave her a permanently surprised look. He was incredulous to see that she kept her wand behind her left ear for safe-keeping as a wand mis-fire was the reason why most people kept their wands in a holster. Her necklace of Butterbeer caps clinked as Lovegood pulled out an interesting pair of glasses. It sparkled and had a different colored lens for each eye, a red and a blue one. Harry thought they looked a little like vintage 3-d viewers for a film. "Here. Try them on if you don't believe me."

Harry dutifully took them and slipped them over his glasses. At first, he didn't see anything different, until he noticed a cloud that swarmed around Turpin's head. He took them off, and the strange gnat-like cloud vanished. "What are Nargles and Wrackspurts?" He handed the glasses back to her.

"They flit into your head and make it hard to think. One's the size of gnats and the other the size of specks. And you're Harry Potter," Lovegood answered, while the other two Ravenclaws chatted to one another as if they weren't there.

As their coach trundled towards a pair of magnificent wrought-iron gates, which was flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they passed through the gates.

"Awful, aren't they?"

He gave Lovegood a look that said as much and then she stared out the small window of the stagecoach towards the dementors they'd left behind. He liked that she simply took his expression as an answer.

Harry could hear the horse's hooves pick up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle and the stagecoach jostled whenever it hit a stone. Padma and Turpin were talking about boys as far as Harry could tell, something he wasn't interested in overhearing.

At last, the stagecoach swayed to a halt. The Ravenclaws got out. When Harry stepped down and pulled the hood of his cloak up to prevent himself from getting drenched, a drawling, delighted voice sounded next to him.

"You _fainted_, Harry? Was Longbottom telling the truth? You actually _fainted_?" Draco's grey eyes were glinting maliciously from the cowl of his school cloak as Crabbe and Goyle stepped on either side of Harry.

Harry wondered if his roommate was still upset over not being allowed to kick Neville and Sally-Anne out of the compartment. The other students steered clear of them eager to be out of the rain. "Only someone who's experienced true horror reacts that way to a dementor, Draco. Let me guess: You only felt like the world was a little darker, a little less happy as if your mum and dad would never love you again?"

Draco's expression turned sour. "Longbottom's told _everyone_. And if you'd let me talk to you earlier, I would have told you about the sweep the dementors were going to perform on the train."

"You could've told me without bullying my other friends."

His face became pinched. "You don't seem to recognize that you have a reputation to uphold! I will not have you showing weakness in front of the whole school!"

"Shove off, Malfoy. Nobody cares what you want," Ron Weasley's voice wafted from behind Harry. Harry turned to see Hermione standing beside Ron.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said to Hermione, "Though I'd be better if Ron—"

"I heard your sister was quaking in her seat, Weasley. Did _you_ have to change your pants after the big scary dementor frightened you?" Draco raised semi-curled hands. "Boo!" Crabbe and Goyle had a great laugh at that.

"I'll hex you for that!" Ron yelled, reaching for the box that held his wand.

"Ron, no!" Hermione said, grabbing him as Harry's roommates laughed.

Harry flexed his cold, damp fingers agitatedly by his wand. Why did it always end this way?

"Is there a problem?" a mild voice asked. Professor Lupin had just arrived.

Draco gave their new DADA teacher an insolent stare, which took in the patched robes and dilapidated suitcase. "Oh no, professor," he said in the sweetest voice he could muster. "Weasley just wanted to show me his… _wand_. It was rather short, wasn't it, boys?"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded, smirking, while Harry frowned puzzled by the statement because fourteen inches was longer than Harry's forearm.

"Oh, consider yourself _hexed!_" Ron hissed going for the wand still trapped inside the box in his robes.

"Enough," Professor Lupin said. "I expect you all to go to the Great Hall. If I catch you dallying again, I'll take away House points. Ron, Hermione, if I might have a moment with you?"

Draco's smile was a little less pleasant. "Of course, _professor._ Harry and I were just leaving." He grabbed Harry's forearm and directed him towards the Entrance Hall. Harry felt the snakes ring around his biceps tightly, pulling away from the foreign warmth. "Crabbe, Goyle," Draco ordered.

Once they'd traveled up the hill towards Hogwarts, Harry yanked his arm away. "Why do you keep being a git to Weasley?"

"Because it's fun to see him lose what little wits he has to his emotions," Draco volunteered as they joined the crowd swarming up the steps through the giant oak front doors.

"I wish you wouldn't," Harry said irritably. "He's less obnoxious when he isn't foaming at the mouth."

Draco laughed as they entered the cavernous entrance hall to the Great Hall within Hogwarts castle. The Entrance Hall was lit with flaming torches and housed a marble staircase that led to the lower floors of Hogwarts. The snakes on Harry's arms slithered about, sensing excitement from the swells of students around them, no doubt.

"Potter!" Professor Snape's voice cut across the crowd.

"Are you going to start every year like this?" Draco tossed at Harry.

Harry scowled. "Shut it."

Draco guffawed once, and Harry quite deliberately turned his back on his roommate and pushed through the students.

"Granger and Perks!" Harry looked up to see that it had been Professor McGonagall, who was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun. At the moment she was wearing a square pair of spectacles that framed her sharp eyes. He wondered what Hermione or Sally-Anne had possibly done to get into trouble.

Discovering that he was farther away than he anticipated since the students kept pushing him away from Professor Snape, Harry heaved a sigh. When he finally stepped next to the Potions Master, Harry banished the useless sense of foreboding he had. He hadn't done anything wrong yet.

"Go, Draco," Professor Snape said, gesturing towards the Great Hall.

Harry turned to see that he had been followed. Draco clucked his tongue and made a noise of disappointment. With his faithful sidekicks, the other Slytherin entered the Great Hall.

Accompanying Professor Snape across the hall, Harry was led down the marble staircase and along a chilly corridor. Once they were in his office, his guardian motioned Harry to sit. He obliged. When his Head of House was not immediately forthcoming, Harry asked, "What's this about?"

Snape opened a large, polished dark wood box with a hole in the side of it. "Professor Dumbledore will allow the Lionsnakes to establish themselves, so long as they remain in this box for seven days. Inform them."

_Oh, right_. Harry leaned his mouth towards his arms. _"Lucy, Sam, we're here. You mustn't leave this box for seven sunsets. Can you promise me this? Afterwards, Hogwarts castle will be yours."_

"_We already heard him_," Lucy hissed. "_We agree to these terms. That journey exhausted us."_

Harry stood up and went to the box which was lined with crushed, cushioned blue velvet. There was a small bowl of water. He held his hands out, and the outlines of the snake's bodies became very apparent as they slithered down his arms and dropped into the box.

With a slight look of relief, Snape flipped the lid shut. Before he could say anything else, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the Healer of Hogwarts, came in. She was much shorter than she had been last year.

Harry felt his face go red. It was bad enough that he'd passed out, but now even his guardian was making a fuss about it? "I'm fine," he said quickly, "I don't need anything. I've already had—"

"A close encounter with a dementor is nothing to sneeze at, and you won't be the last to collapse from them," Madam Pomfrey said curtly, staring at him closely. "May I check your scar?"

Harry nodded.

She pushed Harry's hair back and felt his forehead. "Oh dear, you're so clammy. Terrible things, dementors. And the effect they have on people who are already delicate—"

"I'm not delicate!" Harry said hotly.

"Of course not," Madam Pomfrey said absently, taking his pulse. Harry wondered why she wasn't simply doing a diagnostic spell. "I was talking about students who will take ill later. Sickness makes a person more susceptible to a dementor's effects."

Standing there like a sentinel, Snape said nothing as Harry waited very patiently for Madam Pomfrey to finish running her warm palms over Harry's face and the glands beneath his jaw. "You've had chocolate, dear?" She peered closely into Harry's eyes.

"Yes. Professor Lupin gave me some."

"So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies," Madam Pomfrey said approvingly. "I'm not surprised. Remus was gifted in that subject as a student here." She pulled away from Harry, giving her attention to the Potions Master. "Harry needs bed rest for tonight."

"I'm _fine!_" Harry said angrily.

The two adults stared him down. Harry fidgeted under their intense scrutiny.

"Normally I wouldn't have prescribed anything but rest. In your case, however…" Madam Pomfrey's eyes left Harry's and glanced towards Snape.

"Professor Lupin said you hallucinated that someone was screaming. Will you describe that to us?"

Harry scowled. No, he was not keen to do that.

"Then you _will_ go to the hospital wing and follow Madam Pomfrey's directions precisely. You _will not_ give her any cheek or go sneaking off in the middle of the night. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry groused out.

"Your cloak then." Professor Snape held a palm open to him.

Harry went to the silver snake clasp at the Spellfast cloak.

"Your _other_ cloak," Snape said slowly.

With a baleful look, Harry took the sheer material from his inner robes. "I'll hand it over if you promise to give it back tomorrow."

Professor Snape inclined his head, and Harry passed it to him.

Then, the professor flicked his fingers towards the door, where Madam Pomfrey was standing patiently.

Harry dutifully followed her to the infirmary. He would miss out on the Sorting, which placed the new students into one of the four possible Houses, and Dumbledore's yearly speech. It hardly seemed fair since he'd missed them last year too.

They arrived at the quiet end of the corridor and entered into the infirmary.

"I'll update you on any news from the feast. The kitchen staff should send something up for you shortly," Madam Pomfrey said bustling over to the bed farthest from the door. "Here you are then."

Harry looked pointedly at the bed and then the long distance he was from the only exit. It was obvious that neither adult had forgotten about his sneaking off to go save Ginny last year.

"Once you've eaten, I want you to take a Dreamless Sleep Draught." She pointed her wand at the bedside table, transfiguring it into a small chair and table. It looked rather sad and lonely to Harry.

"Yes, ma'am," he said crisply.

She went to the medicine cupboard, pulling out a vial, and then swiped her wand over it. The vial floated slowly towards Harry, hovering until he took it and placed it on the table.

When Harry sat down, a golden plate, silverware, and a goblet appeared. Not long after, the plate and goblet had filled itself with food and drink, respectively. Harry ate his fill, though he missed the noise of other students eating and chatting and carrying on.

The empty dishes disappeared when he finally stood up, belly bulging. Once he toed off his shoes and slipped off his outer robes, Harry slid under the bed covers. Even though he wasn't in the dormitories and even though he wasn't surrounded by his friends, Harry felt he was home at last.

He drank the potion in one swift gulp and fell into a deep sleep.


	7. Never Offend a Hippogriff

_**Author's Notes: **Harry, why did you do that? Seriously. Why? I mean, it makes for a fun chapter to write, but it's... I'm just going to shake my head at your Gryffindor-ness.  
_

* * *

After Harry woke up, he dressed and cast a Refreshening Charm on his clothes. Madam Pomfrey updated him on what he missed at the start-of-term feast—mainly the introduction of Hagrid as the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher—and smiled at Harry approvingly when he thanked her and said goodbye. He really must have needed that bed rest because Harry was feeling much better. Unfortunately, when Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing he saw was Seamus Finnigan entertaining a large group of Gryffindors with what must have been a funny story. As Harry passed, Finnigan did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit. There was a roar of laughter. That left no doubt in Harry's mind precisely who the butt of the joke was.

"Ignore them," Hermione said, who'd startled him at her sudden appearance. "Seamus is being an arse about it because his mother thinks you're an attention seeker."

Before Harry could say that he didn't see why that made it alright for someone to be an arse, someone shrieked, "Hey, Potter!" It was Lavender Brown, a Gryffindor girl with perfectly curled hair and dark skin. "The dementors are coming! Wooooo!" She wiggled her fingers. There was another roar of laughter.

"And her father thinks I'm a weakling?" Harry irritably shot at Hermione.

Hermione looked flustered and unsure. "I don't know why Lavender's acting that way. She's normally very sweet."

Ignoring the upwelling of laughter and other taunts, Harry gave her a curious look. "So, where's Ron?" Harry was uneasy to see that the loudmouth wasn't next to her.

"Oh, we… had a fight…" She said trailing off. "I'll see you in Ancient Runes on Thursday." Hermione practically flung herself away from Harry as the group of bullying Gryffindors burst into yet another bout of riotous laughter. Not thinking anything of it, Harry continued down the center aisle. He saw a familiar somewhat rotund teen.

"Thanks for telling everyone what a fainting ninny I was, Neville. I hope you can keep your trap shut about other secrets," Harry said. Before a gaping Neville could respond, Harry sat down at a spot halfway down the Slytherin table, beside Gilbert, who still had the regular prefect badge affixed to his robes. This year's Head Boy was Gryffindor and the Head Girl was Ravenclaw. "I can't believe that I missed Hagrid's introduction last night."

"Ah, hello, Harry. You're just the person I wanted to see." The seventh year handed a course schedule to him. When another roar of laughter bowled over them, Gilbert looked up with a deep frown as they mimed Harry's fainting experience again. "Dementors are the foulest sort of Dark creature. If you're around them for too long, they'll steal all your good memories away and leave you with nothing but the worst. It's why the prisoners in Azkaban go mad after a while."

Harry already knew that, but he wasn't going to be rude about it. "You didn't pass out," he said with a low voice.

"Nobody tried to kill me when I was a baby. Or mistreated me in my childhood. Or—"

"Alright, I get it." Harry was still ashamed that he'd fainted. He helped himself to sausage patties and fried tomatoes and looked over his schedule.

"Do you really?" Gilbert peered at him. "Because, frankly, I think if anyone would be susceptible to them, it would be you. Traumatized individuals have weakened defenses against dementors."

Wishing he'd dropped the subject, Harry shrugged. He stared down at the parchment. He had Arithmancy first at nine… and then Care for Magical Creatures after lunch. All new classes on the first day... It'd certainly be much more exciting than taking the third year class of History of Magic with Professor Binns, who'd been dead for nearly a century with a monotonous tone that could probably put other ghosts to sleep.

Professor Snape had Owl-ordered all Harry's books this year, so he'd been able to at least read the introductory chapters in his new courses.

Seeing that he had Charms and Transfiguration tomorrow, and History of Magic and Astronomy on Wednesday, Harry sighed. It felt like he hadn't even had a summer holiday at all since he'd been cooped up studying. He was already exhausted at the thought of a new school year.

"That was a miserable sigh."

Letting that observation go without comment, Harry finished chewing the meat in his mouth and then stood. "I've got to go get my books."

"Harry, my door's always open if you want someone to talk to."

"Thanks, Gilbert." Harry walked past the Gryffindors who were laughing at him yet again and out the Great Hall. He wondered where Draco was. The other teen would have definitely intervened.

"Good morning, Harry!" Hermione was bright-eyed and awake with Ron next to her in the Entrance Hall. "We missed you at the Feast last night."

Harry gave her a glare and walked towards the marble staircase.

"Wonder what's eating him?" Ron said loudly as the two Gryffindors walked into the Great Hall. Within half an hour of seeing Hermione last, the Gryffindors were apparently on good terms again; Harry wondered if it was typical of Lions to go back-and-forth on friendships.

Passing groups of tired, grumpy Slytherins, Harry made his way to the dungeons. He stopped at the Thin Lady, realizing he didn't know the keyed password. She flapped the fan at herself, not bothering to ask him.

Luckily, the portrait opened and a couple of first years came out frantic about getting to their next class on time.

"Thanks," Harry said as they craned their heads up with wide-eyed surprise. Harry nearly laughed at how young the duo seemed to him. He ran across the common room to the boys' stairwell to the dormitories, clambering up the steps. He had to remind himself to stop one landing early before he took the next step to the second-year boys' dormitory. He opened the door and saw that none of the others were in the room. Harry must have missed them. He shut the door behind him, rapidly unlocking his trunk with thirteen wand taps, and fished out the books he needed for the day and shoved them into his schoolbag. Of course he first had to run a finger down the spine of the growling book that he'd buckled shut as a precaution.

Not seeing his clothes, Harry slammed the trunk's lid shut and reactivated the useless-against-Draco-Malfoy—because Nott certainly wouldn't invade his privacy and Crabbe and Goyle had trouble enough performing basic spellwork—Locking spells and ripped open his wardrobe. His robes were neatly hung up and smelled as if someone had cast a Refreshening Charm over them. His quarterstaff was leaning against the inside corner. Reminding himself to talk to Draco about breaking into his trunk later, Harry took off a hanger that had a complete uniform on it. He quickly changed into it and swapped his Dragon-hide boots for a normal pair of shiny black loafers. Once he'd done that, he slipped his Spellfast Cloak back around his shoulders.

Harry checked to see if his wand holster was correctly fastened to his leg and then grabbed his bag off his bed. "HARRY POTTER, ARITHMANCY, ARITHMANCY, ARITHMANCY!" The clock screamed at him, startling him so soundly that he had pulled out his wand.

He blinked in surprise at himself and re-holstered his wand. "Shut it!" He yelled at the clock and ran right out of the room, heart still racing.

The Arithmancy classroom was near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom not far from the Ravenclaw house. Harry ran all the way, exhilarated to know that he was hardly out of breath. He promised himself that he'd keep up with his exercise tomorrow morning, since he'd had to skip today.

Harry skidded across the stone floor as he reached the impressive arched doorway made of glass. He turned the knob and stepped in, noticing that the room seemed to be filled mostly with Ravenclaws already. "Excuse me? Sorry I'm… late." Harry looked around at the faces of students staring down at him. There wasn't a teacher in sight.

"Harry!" Hermione nearly cheered out. She seemed excited to see a familiar face.

Even though he was irked because of the taunting he'd endured by her fellow Gryffindors, Harry set his bag down and took a seat beside her. Sally-Anne nodded a greeting to Harry. He blinked realizing he had taken the only seat between them.

"I didn't know you were taking Arithmancy," Hermione said as a conversation starter.

"How'd you not know that if you're the one who said we had Ancient Runes later this week?" he said looking around the room. It looked like a traditional amphitheater classroom used in colleges. There was a mechanical clock on the opposite wall from them. The professor was five minutes late already.

Hermione rolled her eyes towards the vaulted ceiling. "I didn't think you'd be interested in the wizard's equivalent of mathematics."

"I heard it helps you perform wordless magic of any kind," Harry said, perking up at the mention of math. The Arithmancy textbook, Numerology and Grammatica, hadn't showed any numbers or equations in the first few chapters. It only talked about the magical properties of numbers and general magical theory, not the most exciting stuff.

"Understanding the patterns beneath the natural world obviously results in a greater appreciation for casting without incantation." Hermione frowned at him. "You like mathematics?"

"You don't?"

"I do. I'm surprised is all..." She looked at him peculiarly. "About what time did you say we talked this morning?"

"You don't remember?" He was surprised.

"I was a little preoccupied, sorry."

Harry thought a moment. "A little before eight. I'd just come from the infirmary to get something to eat when Finnigan—"

A hush fell on the class, and Harry snapped his mouth shut. A stately-looking woman with an emerald shawl wrapped around her head and neck had walked through the doorway. Her eyes were a piercing brown. Without a word, she flicked her wand at the chalkboard behind her. "My name is Professor Vector. I will be teaching Arithmancy." The chalk wrote out her name and Arithmancy below it. Her wand flicked again and the chalk dropped to its holder. "I expect that all of you are beginners, barring those with relations working in the field of Arithmancy or birthed from Muggle parents." Her wand came up again and a large stack of rolled parchments fluttered off the desk. Pointing at each of them while she spoke, a roll of parchment landed on their desks. "This is a pre-test. Fill it out to the best of your ability. Write your name on the top and turn it in. The paper is keyed to ignite if any of you choose to cheat. You have an hour."

Harry hurriedly dug through his bag for quill, ink, blotter, and paperweights.

"Er, excuse me," said a Ravenclaw boy; Harry recognized him from Herbology class last year. It took him a moment to remember that his name was Stephen Cornfoot. "Do we get calculators?"

Professor Vector laughed and then cleared her throat. "No, and no abacuses either. There's a scrap of provided parchment to do your work." She paced across the room. "Any other questions?" She looked around and saw that no one had raised their hand. "You may begin."

Harry unrolled the parchment and couldn't help the surprised laugh. This was baby math! After placing the paperweights at the top corners, he dipped his quill into the inkwell he'd opened and neatly wrote out his name. It was no trouble at all to fill out the correct sums, differences, products, and quotients to the single-digit problems, and then the double-digit, triple-digit, and larger and larger digit numbers.

Once he finished that part, he blotted the ink dry and rolled the parchment down to continue answering the questions. Now there were fractions, decimals, percentages… creating and deciphering graphs. Then there were very simple probability problems, followed by basic geometry fundamentals, like the names of the polygons with a certain number of sides, no higher than eight Harry was relieved to note, and the names of the different categories of angles and their ranges.

He was surprised that there were very few questions about theory relating to the magical properties of numbers.

With a deep feeling of relief, Harry patted his blotter over the rest of the page so the ink wouldn't smear. He looked up at the clock as he capped his inkwell and cleaned off his quill. It was only a quarter to ten. He rolled up his parchment. Sally-Anne was halfway finished while Hermione was two-thirds of the way through.

Professor Vector cleared her throat and lifted her wand. The roll slipped from Harry's fingers and floated straight to her desk. She placed paperweights at the top of it and set a quill on its tip at the first problem. After she pointed her wand at it, the quill hopped over each problem, leaving a small red dot next to each without marking any of them wrong. Professor Vector looked up. "You may go, Potter."

He nodded, putting his school things back into his bag, and left the classroom. Harry grinned at himself. This was the first class he'd excelled at without much effort, besides the three classes on broom-flying he'd taken as a first year. He decided since he finished early he'd wander around the school as a reward.

This year, the paintings seemed to crowd every bit of walls in the hallways. Harry thought it was strange since last year the walls had only felt overcrowded in the massive main stairwell where the stairs regularly moved. Now it seemed there were paintings everywhere.

Nevertheless, he enjoyed watching the paintings, how the subjects moved around and left their frames to visit one another. He was looking at a fat, dapple-grey pony which had ambled onto the grass of a particularly tall painting and was grazing nonchalantly. A moment later, a short squat knight in a suit of armor clanked into the picture after the pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal armor, the knight looked as if he'd taken a great number of falls.

"Ah!" The knight yelled at Harry in a sudden rage. "Villain! Come to scorn my fall, perchance? Draw, you knave! You dog!"

Harry stared at the little knight as he tugged his overly large sword from the ground in which it'd been stuck and began brandishing it violently. The sword was much too long for him; a particularly wild, inexpert swing made him overbalance and he landed face-down on the grass. Harry wondered if Snape felt the same way as he looked at Harry when he was practicing against an invisible opponent with his quarterstaff.

"Are you alright?" Harry moved closer to the picture.

"Get back, you showoff! Back, I said!" The knight seized his sword and pushed himself up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass. Despite his best efforts, he could not pull it out again. Giving up, the knight flopped onto the grass and pushed up his visor to mop his sweating face.

Harry felt sorry for the knight. "Maybe you should get a shorter sword."

"Hah! You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"I'm serious. Couldn't you borrow one?"

"ANOTHER QUEST!" The knight bellowed suddenly in better spirits. "Two in a row! Oh, my comrade-in-arms! If ever you need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!" He stumbled a little and pointed to the right. "I shall find a new sword, or else perish bravely in the charge! Farewell!"

Harry watched the little knight run into the right side of the frame and out of sight. He almost followed the knight's clanking armor just to see what he would do, but the sounds of other paintings yelling their displeasure stopped Harry. He looked again at the pony grazing languidly and turned down the hall. Harry decided to take a stroll outside while the weather was still warm.

* * *

After lunch, Harry was pleased to get out of the castle again. Yesterday's rain had cleared and the sky was a clear pale grey. The grass was springy and damp as the students set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. Sally-Anne, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle walked beside him. Up ahead of them, Neville was walking between Ron and Hermione, who by the looks of things, weren't speaking to each other. Harry had assumed that they had another fight.

"Divination is definitely more art than serious magic, since it's entirely subjective," Draco had been telling Harry for the tenth time. "And our Divinations professor is a fake Seer. Everyone knows that she never inherited her great-great-grandmother's gift of Sight. See, if you predict someone will get sick or die the professor believes you have the," His voice became breathy and higher pitched, "Inner Eye."

Crabbe and Goyle snorted in amusement on either side of them.

"Why didn't you take Arithmancy?"

"Because I want to pass all of my classes with Outstanding marks," Draco said simply. "And Goyle wanted to take Divination. Take this class. I don't even like Magical creatures, but that was Crabbe's choice so here I am."

Harry didn't think that was very strange since Draco hated anything that would get his hands dirty. "What'd you take for your last elective? Ancient Runes?"

"Please, I'd rather get through school in one piece," he said contemptuously. "We signed up to take an Independent Potions Lab specifically for third years."

"I think I've already taken a year of that. I'll stick with Ancient Runes, thanks," Harry said while the three Slytherin teenaged boys chortled because Harry had been given the class as punishment his first year.

"I'm taking Ancient Runes, too," Sally-Anne said quietly.

Before Harry could respond to her, Hagrid bellowed, "C'mon now, get a move on!" He was waiting for the students at the door of his cabin. He stood in his moleskin overcoat with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start. "Gotta real treat fer yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Righ', follow me."

For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the Forbidden Forest, a place which Harry was not allowed to enter. However, Hagrid brought them around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round th' fence here!" He called. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books to page forty-nine—"

"How?" said Draco with his cold, drawling tone he reserved for gibbering idiots.

"Eh?" Hagrid was taken aback.

"How exactly do we open our books?" Draco repeated slowly. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Harry looked around and saw that others had belted their book shut or crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with very large clips.

"Hasn'—hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid said with a crestfallen expression.

Harry raised his eyebrows when he realized that everyone around them, even Hermione, shook their heads. Harry raised his hand. "I have, professor."

The half-giant immediately perked up. "Want ter show everyone how it's done?"

Taking out the massive, snarling book, Harry demonstrated how a simple stroke of fingers down the spine silenced the book. He unbuckled the belt, and it fell open to a page about Unicorns. "Like that."

He glanced up and saw that Sally-Anne looked peeved with him.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Draco burst out frostily. "We should have stroked them!"

As he looked around, everyone was glaring at Harry. He wondered what he'd done wrong.

"I thought they were funny," Hagrid said defensively.

"Oh, tremendously funny! Really witty, getting books that try and rip our hands off!" Draco said his tone growing icier, but he wasn't looking at Hagrid at all; he was glaring at Harry, "Who was the brilliant one to put a school dropout in charge?"

"I imagine the headmaster did. Now shut up and open the book," Harry said sharply. Poor Hagrid was looking downcast and Harry wanted his first lesson to be a success.

With a noise of displeasure, the platinum blond held the green book up and ran a finger down its spine. The book instantly stilled in his hands. Draco looked absolutely disgusted at the book.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread of thought, "So—so yeh've got yer books an'—an' now yeh need th' Magical Creature. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'im. Hang on…" The half-giant strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"Merlin, this place is going to the dogs," Draco complained loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, I thought it was a joke. My father'll have a fit when I tell him—"

"Shut up, Draco—!" Ron's voice exploded.

Harry stepped between them, facing Draco. "I challenge you. If I win the duel, you won't tell your father."

"I accept," Draco said stonily to Harry, for once ignoring the red-headed Gryffindor who was screaming about spoiled wankers, "And if you lose—"

"Oh, no! Potter, there's a dementor after me!" Finnigan's voice cried out mockingly.

Harry refused to turn around. By the expression on Draco's face, he looked like he wanted to send the Gryffindor to an early grave.

"It's tryin' ta Kiss me! Help!" Finnigan made choking noises and by the sound of things had dropped to the ground. There was plenty of laughter.

Hand gripping his wand, Draco stepped forward, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Don't. Let it go, Draco."

Furious grey eyes flashed to Harry's.

"Finnigan, would you cut it out?" Ron's voice snapped out harshly. "It's not funny anymore."

Draco's arm relaxed with a light snort. Harry turned to see Ron and Finnigan exchange a death stare; Hermione was perched on some tree roots, reading voraciously. She didn't appear to have noticed any of the teasing. Poor Neville continued to look back and forth between the two Gryffindors and two Slytherins as if he might step in between them when he figured out exactly where he should stand.

"Oooo!" Brown's squeal of excitement turned everyone's attention from the stand-off. She was pointing to the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting towards them was the most bizarre creature Harry had ever seen. It had the body, hind legs, and tail of a horse, but the front legs, wings, and head of what seemed to be a giant eagle. The face had a cruel, steel-colored beak and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on the creature's front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. It had a leather collar around its neck. Hagrid was feeding it a dead polecat each time the creature correctly followed a verbal instruction.

Everyone drew back as it came closer to them. Harry had opened his book to page forty-nine, which was entitled Hippogriff. There was an illustration of a coppery-red creature that was built the same as the living one Hagrid had brought to them.

"Ta-dah!" Hagrid exclaimed gesturing to the bird-horse. "Inn't he beau'iful?"

Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once a person got over the shock of seeing something that was half-horse, half bird, they started to appreciate the hippogriff's gleaming coat, changing smoothly from feathers to hair. This one was a stormy grey.

"What is that?" Ron's voice broke halfway through the sentence.

"That, Ron, is a hippogriff. Buckbeak's his name." Hagrid came to stand in front of them. "Firs' thing yeh want ter know is that they're very proud creatures."

Draco and Goyle were talking quietly to one another instead of paying attention.

"Very easily offended," Hagrid continued, "You do not want ter insult a hippogriff. It might be th' last thing yeh do." The half-giant clapped his hands once. "Now! Who'd like ter come say 'ello?" He turned to check on the hippogriff that appeared to be preening.

Harry heard a curious noise of people moving, but dismissed it as he read the first paragraph on the page.

Hagrid looked back. "Well done, 'Arry!"

Spinning around in place, Harry realized that everyone had taken a large step back. "Traitors," he said darkly towards his fellow Slytherins. His roommates smirked at him, while Sally-Anne had an innocent look on her face. Harry took a breath, closed his book, and stepped forward. "Alright," he said loudly and then climbed over the paddock fence. It couldn't be much worse than meeting a basilisk right?

"Now, yeh have ter let 'im make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Step up, yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh can go and touch 'im. If not—Well, yeh should get away pronto since those talons are nasty sharp," Hagrid said with a pained expression, halting a move to touch his left arm.

As Harry approached slowly, he couldn't hear anyone talking from the other side of the paddock now. Everyone must be watching. He kept his eyes on the hippogriff's.

"Easy, now," Hagrid said quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much."

Harry's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them. Buckbeak was staring at him with one fierce orange eye.

"That's it, now give 'im a bow… Nice and low…"

He didn't much like exposing the nape of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told trusting that Hagrid would make sure he stayed in one piece. Harry gave a short, but deep bow and then looked up.

The hippogriff stared haughtily at him and didn't move.

"Ah," Hagrid said worriedly, "Right—back away, now, 'Arry, easy does it—"

But then much to Harry's surprise, the hippogriff suddenly flapped its wings and then bent its scaly front knees into an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, 'Arry!" Hagrid tossed a dead polecat to Buckbeak who snatched it out of the air. "Right—yeh can touch 'im! Pat his beak, go on! Don't be shy!"

Feeling that the better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly towards the hippogriff. He tried not to think too hard about its wickedly sharp talons and beak. He reached out to it, and it stepped forward, butting its head against his hand like Hedwig. He patted it several times and stroked a few times, and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily as though it enjoyed it.

The class broke into light applause. Harry glanced back to see that Seamus Finnigan and a few other Gryffindors were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, 'Arry. I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

"What?" Harry said sharply looking at the half-giant like he'd lost his marbles. He was lifted abruptly like he weighed nothing.

"C'mon!" Hagrid sounded gleeful.

"Hey, hey, hey!" This was far more than Harry bargained for. He was used to a broomstick and was quite sure that a hippogriff would not be the same.

"Put yeh over here, just behind th' wing joint," Hagrid said, cheerfully setting Harry atop the beast. "An' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that."

Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to hold onto then. Everything in front of him was covered with feathers.

Then Hagrid thwacked the beast's hind-quarters, and the hippogriff made a loud, indignant squawk, while it reared back on its hind legs. Harry wrapped his arms around its neck, holding on for dear life. Without warning, the hippogriff took off galloping with its twelve foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry. He let out a yell of surprise as the beast soared upwards into the air.

It was nothing like a broomstick. He had no control over the beast and wouldn't know whether the landing would be as easy as take-off, and Harry knew immediately which one he preferred: The hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel as if he was about to be thrown off; The glossy feathers slipped under his fingers, but he didn't dare get a stronger grip; and the entire creature was rocking back and forth with each beat of its wings.

Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then high above the trees into the misty grey sky. The air blustered over Harry as he clung to its neck, his Spellfast cloak flaring out behind him. It flew directly to Hogwarts Castle, soaring even higher as it circled the towers. Harry hoped that none of the Slytherin prefects were currently looking out those windows or Snape likely was going to kill Hagrid for endangering Harry.

As his arms grew used to his embrace around the hippogriff's neck, Harry stared down at the panorama, enjoying the wind in his face. Merlin, it was beautiful as the sun streamed across the lake and mountains and Hogwarts grounds. Buckbeak glided towards the sparkling clear water, dipping a talon in. Now that he was over water, Harry wasn't as scared. He carefully let go of Buckbeak's neck and spread his own arms out, keeping his legs tight around Buckbeak's middle.

It wasn't at all like flying a broomstick; he could have never flown one with just his legs! Harry let out a yell of happiness, and then the hippogriff pumped its wings harder and Harry was flung forward. He rewrapped his arms around the beast's neck, still grinning broadly into the downy feathers. Harry saw the paddock was under them again, and he heard a whistle from the ground. Buckbeak made a trumpety noise and circled around, slowing.

This was the part Harry had been dreading. He leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling as if he was going to take a tumble right over the beak. Then he felt a quick succession of thuds as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. He just managed to stay where he was as the creature cantered to a stop. He was obliquely aware that Hagrid was praising him and that his classmates were cheering him on.

"Well done, Harry! Well done," Hagrid said as he lifted him easily off Buckbeak and set him down. Harry stumbled a bit. His legs felt fatigued from the ride. "How am I doin' on me firs' day?"

"Brilliant, professor," Harry said feeling great.

Hagrid smiled uncertainly and then straightened. "Okay, who wants to go next?"

Draco pushed through the crowd, storming towards Buckbeak. "You're not dangerous at all, are you, you great ugly brute!"

Harry's stomach dropped as he imagined what was about to happen. Like he had with the snake Draco had summoned last year, he moved forward before he quite realized he was doing.

"Malfoy, 'Arry! No!" Hagrid shouted.

Behind Harry, Buckbeak let out a horrible cry and his wings flapped menacingly. Harry didn't look over his shoulder as he shoved Draco—who suddenly looked very scared— hard to off-balance him. The other Slytherin dropped to the ground with a cry.

While the students screamed, there was a loud gong like the one that had gone off when Harry had been hit with a spell from behind and then something tore into Harry's back, ripping through his Spellfast cloak like it was tissue paper. He stumbled forward but managed to stay on his feet.

"Harry!" Sally-Anne shrieked through the noise of students screaming. "Harry!" Hermione echoed fearfully.

"Buckbeak! No!" Hagrid roared. "Back!"

After catching himself, Harry stood there dumbly, while the chaos of panicked students crashed around him. He should have felt something, some sort of pain, but he didn't.

"Harry?" Draco said tremulously still on the ground; his robes were dirtied from his fall.

"I'm fine," he said. The more he thought about it the more that pain surged through his back and left arm. "I don't know why you had to go and be stupid like that." Behind him, Harry heard Hagrid get Buckbeak under control again.

"I'm stupid?" Draco choked back horrified laughter as his eyes watered. "You're the one that jumped in front of that chicken—"

Harry could not believe what he was seeing. Draco looked like he was on the verge of having tears spill out of his eyes. "Are you about to cr—"

"You're an idiot," Draco said harshly as his voice grew hoarse. "What normal person would jump in front of that? Shouldn't you have used a Knockback Jinx? Honestly, the way you think is too Muggle."

Harry blinked down at him. "Er."

"Harry! Why are you standing there?" Hermione said sharply. "You need to go see Madam Pomfrey! Here let me help—"

Draco's face contorted, and he jumped to his feet and spun around so fast Harry thought the other boy might have gotten whiplash. "You stay away from him!"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Hermione's face was livid with anger.

"He just saved my life, and I am not letting your filthy Muggle-born hands touch him!" Draco screamed at her.

Harry's classmates were cautiously coming closer. Harry felt a little dizzy as the wound burned brutally, the noise of Hermione and Draco's screaming match filling his head with a loud buzz.

Hagrid's voice boomed, "Calm down, calm down. It's jus' a scratch, innit 'Arry?"

He nodded, since he didn't want Hagrid to get into trouble just because Draco had been stupid.

"Look at his arm, professor! He's bleeding!" Neville exclaimed, pointing at Harry's arm, "He needs to be taken to the infirmary!"

"'M fine," Harry said, his lips hardly cooperating with him. Why were all the colors around him beginning to bleed out?

"Don't lie! You're barely standing up as it is!" Draco snarled.

Long arms lifted Harry right off his feet and suddenly he was jarred around as Hagrid loped up the hill to the castle. "Yeh're goin' ter be okay, 'Arry," Hagrid said firmly, but Harry thought he looked scared.

"'M sorry," Harry whispered and passed out in arms that smelled like everything that belonged to the outdoors.


	8. The Added Dimension

_**Author's Notes: **Yeah. So... There's a reason why Draco was out of commission for several days. Just saying._

* * *

Harry woke up in the infirmary, his chest and left arm bandaged up. Both back and arm still ached.

If he was being treated… why hadn't Madam Pomfrey patched him up all the way? He pushed himself up with his arms, but the pain grew so intense that he had to lie back down. Harry knew what Snape was going to say when he snarled at him next… "You twit! Jumping in front of an enraged Hippogriff is how you get killed! As usual, you are exceedingly lucky!"

Looking beside him, he saw that the table was full of blurry objects. He licked his dry lips, swallowing. No one was sitting in either chair beside the bed.

"Good, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said across from him, her blurry shape coming around his bed. "How are you feeling? Not too hot or cold?"

"Just right." Harry squinted in the afternoon light. "How long was I out?" He reached for the blurry shape of glasses beside him, but he couldn't grab them. His arm hurt too much. The kind Healer placed them into the hand of his unhurt arm.

"Since Monday." After Harry put his Glaxxes on, Madam Pomfrey caught his eyes. "Today is Wednesday."

"Great," Harry said, unhappy that he'd missed the first day of several classes. He looked at the table to his left again and saw Get Well cards, candy, and flowers overflowing it. "Was I hurt too badly to heal up right away?"

The vials in Madam Pomfrey's hands slipped onto the empty bedside table on his right with a clunk. She turned with a fierce expression on her face. "Am I to understand that you jumped into harm's way because you thought I'd mend it in a jiffy?"

Harry blinked at her because yes, he rather did think she'd be able to fix it with magic.

"Helga help me." Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes and breathed out. When she opened them again, her blue eyes had softened. She shook her head sadly. "That's not how it works. Not everything has an easy or quick fix." She paused and then took a careful breath. "There was slow-acting poison in those hippogriff talons, Harry. Had I simply healed your wound your M.V.S. would have accelerated the poison's effects and killed you within a few days."

"M.V.S?"

"Magical vascular system, the pathways that channel magic, similar to how blood pumps through the cardiovascular system. You might've heard the more common term for it: magical core."

Harry shifted so he could sit up because his back was sore. He winced when pain stabbed through his back.

"If you remained prone it wouldn't hurt as much," she admonished.

"So…" He was having difficulties thinking straight. "You couldn't use magic."

"Yes. I had to find a way to stabilize your M.V.S. without lifting my wand, and that required draining some of the toxin off the old fashioned way."

Harry looked down at his unmarked arms. "By bleeding me?"

"With leeches," Madam Pomfrey said promptly.

"With leeches," Harry dully repeated, imagining giant slimy black creatures on him.

"Yes, they are experts at blood-sucking. These particular ones I had to specially order to make sure they were free of trace magics."

A thought came to him as the School Healer bustled about with the vials. "Hagrid! Was he hurt?"

"He was hurt?" The witch radiated concern.

"He was scratched by the hippogriff's talons too!"

Clucking, she shook her head to herself and stood. "Thank you, Harry. You may have saved his life," she said.

Madam Pomfrey quickly left the room. The sound of the door shutting and locking behind her filled the empty room.

Harry let out a heavy breath and then took a deeper one. He forced himself to sit up despite the screaming pain and put his feet on the floor.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snape's tinny voice sounded.

Harry looked around in confusion.

"The Foe-Glass, you fool boy. On the bedside table."

Slowly, Harry twisted his legs as he turned to keep them as straight with his shoulders as possible. On the table with the vials the Healer had abandoned was a strangely warped, translucent piece of glass. On it was Snape's dour face and large nose, elongated because of the glass' curvature. "Hullo," Harry said dumbly.

"Shall I inform Madam Pomfrey that her charge has lied to her?"

Harry felt the flush of anger and immediately let out a groan as the anger seemed to intensify the pain. He lay back down with a soft fwump, his head hanging off the side of the bed. "I'mnot lying. Hagrid said that if you bowed and Buckbeak didn't like you that the talons were 'nasty sharp'. His words, not mine."

Snape was silent for a moment. "You are not to leave your bed," he said caustically.

Harry shifted again, trying to get comfortable. He stared at the walls. He stared at the empty beds. He stared at the interplay of light and dark blotches on the ceiling. "I'm bored," Harry stated to the silence.

A derisive snort could be heard from the bedside table. "There's certainly an easy remedy for that." Harry immediately knew from the tone that Snape would soon have his revenge. Several rolls of parchment floated from another table to drop next to him. "Your missed class work and assignments."

"I am not doing it when I can hardly think straight!" Harry announced angrily. "Couldn't you send someone to visit?"

"I'm sorry," his guardian said insincerely, "Did you expect a trio of dancing monkeys to entertain your majesty?"

"I saved your daft godson from an enraged hippogriff," Harry hissed out.

An unsympathetic huff issued from the Foe-Glass. "You are an idiot if you believe that matters to me."

"You owe me!" Harry said indignantly.

Snape actually chortled in a nasal manner and then responded dryly, "I will ask Dumbledore if I might present the hero's medal at your awards ceremony."

"You're joking. Please, Merlin, let him be joking," Harry gritted out. He didn't want a bloody medal! He especially didn't want the attention and fawning that came with it! The members of the various fan clubs were bad enough.

"Potter, if I owe you for your act of chivalry towards the damsel in distress, then we're even the moment this antidote is complete and shoved down your ungrateful throat."

"Antidote? " Harry frowned. That's right; Madam Pomfrey had talked about venom in the talons. "Did it have a long brew-time?"

Snape made a disgruntled noise that was half-derision and half-exasperation. "Imbecile. Antidote for Hippogriff Venom has never been successfully brewed."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling dumb. He then deliberately said the next words as thoughtlessly as possible, "I suppose it's hard to make an antidote from scratch?"

"Hard to make—No, it's a rather simple potion," Snape snarled with intense irritation. "I've only waited three days to deliver it to Poppy because I desired to have an excuse to lambast you for being an unthinking twit and to allow you the delightful experience of being within fifty hours of certain death."

Surprised that Snape had taken the bait, Harry grinned as the adult went off, but by the end of the rant Harry's grin faltered, "Certain death? I don't feel like I'm about to die."

A deep, frustrated sigh issued from the Foe-Glass. "I won't bother explaining the complexity layered in an exotic, insidious venom to a child who doesn't have even a basic understanding of Golpalott's Third Law."

"Do I want to ask?" Harry stared up at the ceiling.

"You will learn about it next year in Potions if you manage to live that long." After a long minute of silent murmuring that emanated from the Foe-Glass, Snape spoke again. "...Gilbert will be arriving shortly."

"Gilbert?" Harry echoed and then realized that Snape was making doubly sure he wouldn't leave the infirmary. "I don't need a keeper," Harry said snippily. Merlin, his back and arm hurt.

"The irrational desires of a child are overruled," his guardian stated, unsparing in its assessment.

Harry wasn't being irrational! "Do you think I'd want to escape when I feel this awful?" Harry glowered at the warped image of his guardian.

"You've needlessly endangered yourself last year and the year before that. Why should I believe that will change in the future?"

"Because I've tried to do everything you've asked of me," Harry said. "Honestly, you act like I try to get myself into these situations."

"Luck will not always be with you," Snape retorted.

"I know that. You're the one who drilled strategy and survival skills into my head this past summer, remember?"

"Then, why do you persist in running into danger to save the day?"

Harry paused and then opened his mouth. He faltered before he managed, "I just get this feeling that if I don't interfere then things will turn out badly, but if I do then everything will turn out okay." Once he had put it into words, Harry thought it sounded foolhardy. "That sounds really stupid," he muttered to himself.

He expected Snape to begin to lecture to him again. Another minute drifted by without response. Then, the professor said, "Would you say this, feeling," Snape's tone dripped with distaste, "is an urge to choose one way over another or an unavoidable response to the events unfolding in the present?"

Shifting to try to ease the pain some in his back and failing, Harry frowned. "If it was the former, do you think I'd jump in without a second thought?"

Snape scoffed. "There was once an eleven-year old idiot who brazenly went after the Philosopher's Stone in the bowels of Hogwarts after being explicitly told not to."

"Okay, so I might not have been thinking then, but I'm thirteen now. I'm not trying to get myself killed," Harry told the ceiling. When Snape didn't respond for a long time, Harry frowned and carefully swiveled his head to look at the Foe-Glass. The warped glass showed a distracted Snape. "I'm leaving," he announced. The bed's springs creaked as he pushed himself up again.

"You have spent far too much time in Draco's company," Snape's voice said snidely. "Not only have you picked up his penchant for baiting me, you've also become bizarrely attached to my company."

"Bizarrely? You're the first adult I've trusted. What part of wanting you around is strange?" When his guardian didn't respond for a long moment, Harry was having one of those feelings… Not the compulsive-about-to-do-something-insane one, but a deep feeling of foreboding as if he had ventured into a minefield without a proper metal sweeper.

"The part where you seem to think your trust is relevant to me," came the cold tone.

Harry felt as if he'd been physically struck. He took a breath and chuckled a little.

"Did I say something funny?" The acidic voice lashed out.

"You can't mean that."

"My purpose as your legal guardian is to make sure you live to adulthood, nothing more, nothing less."

Harry shook his head. "You expect me to believe that's all there is?"

"Any idealistic notions of family are solely your attribution to this relationship, not mine."

Harry's chest was hurting, and it had nothing to do with his injury. "But you've taught me, shown me how to think, how to use my magic… you've protected me from Voldemort, even though you're Marked by him!" Harry heard his words grow feebler, desperation drawing his voice thin. "I'll go live with Mrs. Longbottom without a fuss. That's why you're doing this, to make me go willingly; you don't need to worry about that. I'll go," he said, turning his hopeful eyes upon the Foe-Glass.

"You have no idea how difficult it's been to keep after you as I'm compelled to do as your Guardian," Snape sneered, his nose beak-like. "Thus far, I have found that raising you has been an inconsiderate, devastating drain on my physical and financial health."

"If I'm such a burden, then why did you bother? Why not let Draco's father take me in?!" The pain he felt from angrily swiping his hand to the side caused dizziness, but it was nothing compared to what Snape had done to his heart.

Snape's eyes were hard, beetle-black. There was no warmth, no softness. "Because it was the headmaster's wish."

Harry recoiled to see the stark emptiness in the professor's tired face. Had it all been an act? An act to get on his good side to make him more pliable…? Lucius Malfoy's jab from two years ago echoed into his mind. "If you never wanted to raise me, why bother teaching me anything? Why trouble yourself by being nice…? You hate brats."

With a snort, the next words were harsh and cutting, "Did you think that I was without my own chess board?"

The world seemed to tilt as the enormity of the adult's words crashed into Harry's idyllic view of family life.

Harry was a pawn and would be nothing more than a pawn. At first, Harry expected anger… but it was deep sadness that came in its stead. The Boy-Who-Lived would be a valuable prize to any who served Voldemort. If Harry wanted to survive, he could not trust Snape, the one adult he so desperately wanted to.

He cared little about whether Mrs. Longbottom was right about his guardian's true motives. If Snape truly intended to turn him over to Voldemort, he wouldn't have gotten nasty the moment Harry spoke of trust; he would have played nice until such a time that opportunity came. The pain bit deeper.

"I'm an idiot," Harry whispered, hating the brokenness in his tone. Blinded by tears, he pushed himself up and touched his feet to the floor. The lesson was that Harry should not trust former Death Eaters. The anger rushing into his head nearly drowned everything else out, blotting out the physical pain. He would play this game. He had to if he wanted to survive.

"Potter, get back in bed!" Snape's voice snapped at him.

"NO!" Harry bellowed, his bitter thoughts overflowing. "You're only doing this so you can hand me over to Voldemort, aren't you?!" He spat out the lies. "You don't care about me at all! You just want to save your own skin, so you can crawl back to your Dark Lord and serve me up on a platter! Well, I'm not going to sit back and let you do it! I'd rather die!"

Despite the debilitating pain that the anger couldn't erase completely, Harry stubbornly shuffled to the door. Where was his wand? Desperately, he looked about not seeing it. A wind that didn't touch him kicked up inside and several fabric blinds crashed over.

When the Potions Master didn't correct his accusations, Harry felt even angrier. It meant he was right about the lesson; Snape wanted him to believe it and act the part. Rage fueled Harry's limping gait. Upon reaching the door, he grabbed the handle, and the entire door disappeared, leaving only the handle. He dropped it to the ground, body swaying. Panting and sweating, Harry continued marching forward, furious at Finnigan and Hagrid and Draco and Snape, especially that greasy-haired—

* * *

When Harry came around again, it was night-time. There was someone passed out across his legs, snoring. Harry sat up slowly. With a grimace of pain, he retrieved his glasses and put them on. In the faint moonlight, he saw a pile of nearly-white blond hair. "Draco?"

"'Nother hour, Mama," his roommate muttered in his sleep.

Harry sighed in irritation. Where was Gilbert? His legs were numb from the weight on them. "Draco! Wake up!" He jerked his legs trying to dislodge them and failed. "Get off."

Draco groaned and then lurched back into his chair.

"Are you awake yet?" Harry asked sharply.

"Mm? Harry?" Draco said groggily, sounding befuddled. "Harry!" He was entirely too gleeful.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't sleep on my legs again. I can't feel my feet." Harry shifted slightly, turning his head away from him despite the pain that shot down his back. His toes tingled uncomfortably.

"I wanted to be the first to tell you that my father's taken care of that vicious beast. Next year, it should be good as dead," Draco said confidently.

Harry's chest constricted, and he turned to look at Draco. "You dim-witted toad," Harry said.

"What? But I—" Draco had the nerve to act offended.

"It's your fault that Buckbeak reacted the way he did. Hagrid bloody warned you! He warned all of us the danger of disrespecting a hippogriff!" Harry hissed out venomously. "And what did you do? You baited the hippogriff."

Draco stared at him as if he was a complete stranger. "Harry, how did you react when I showed you that letter from my mother?"

Derailed, Harry gave him a muddled look. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Where did we first meet?"

"Madam Malkin's, of course," Harry said still confused. "And why are you asking?"

Draco smiled dangerously. "You should know that if it weren't for me, that hack would've been sacked. I know how you like that half-giant."

"And you're a narcissist who baits others to get attention," Harry countered.

His fellow Slytherin flapped his mouth open momentarily. He then pressed his lips together thinly. "You have no right to speak to me that way when you run into danger like a bloodyGryffindork."

"Better than running away from a fight you start," Harry shot back.

"Did you—" Draco took in a deep breath, expression stunned. "Did you just call me a coward?"

Harry smirked. "Did I? I don't recall saying that." He had no idea why he was baiting Draco, but it felt good.

A long breath was exhaled, and Draco looked rather subdued again. "Harry, I hardly think your judgment can be trusted on this sort of thing."

"Oh?"

"You do reckless things that no sane witch or wizard would ever attempt to do on a broom or off," he said solemnly. "I used to wonder why the hat didn't put you in Gryffindor where you could be surrounded by other hotheaded individuals without a lick of sense between them. Now, I understand that you simply have a death wish and you were Sorted to a place where you couldn't disguise it as bravery."

"You…" That was ridiculous. "I'm not—I don't—"

"I'm surprised I never saw it before, but it makes sense," Draco informed him with a serious, overconfident tone. "You see, our housemates tell me when you say something rather peculiar. That way we can get a day-to-day sense of what's going on in that Muggle-raised head of yours."

"You think I want to die?"

"Pansy said you called yourself 'The Boy-Who-Lived-When-He-Really-Ought-To-Have-Died' last year," Draco quoted. His eyes looked at him with a kinder form of pity, the sort Harry had never expected the Malfoy Heir to send at anyone with sincerity.

"I was angry at everyone who thought I'd done something special when I was toddler!" Harry hissed out furiously. "I was angry to discover that a great many of my friendships were nothing but a lie!" A lie just like his home with Snape; the adult had never wanted to raise him in the first place.

"You said, 'I'd rather go fighting'," Draco quietly recited, "That 'I don't want to die under the foot of someone else.' You remember that? You said that on your birthday a month back."

"It's the truth," Harry said fiercely. "If I'm going to die, it won't be on my knees begging for mercy." Which was more or less what he'd yelled at Snape what must have been hours ago. Harry's chest clenched painfully. He frantically wiped his face with the hand attached to his good arm as tears began to pour down his cheeks. He hadn't really lost anything; he was just playing the game, but why did it have to bloody hurt so much?

Draco reached for his left hand, and Harry immediately yanked it away, despite the pain that incurred. "You still don't see it, do you? I heard from Theodore about the basilisk. What you said about it last year. You can't honestly expect me to believe that you don't have a death wish when you ran towards a voice that talked of killing people."

"Professor Snape doesn't think I have a death wish." Any of Harry's remaining grief hardened into simmering anger, and the tears stopped. Ugly loathing welled up at the thought of the adult.

"People change their minds. He wouldn't have asked us to watch over you if he didn't think you presented a danger to yourself," Draco answered softly.

"I should've let that hippogriff give you what you deserved," Harry ground out. "Then you'd be moaning about the pain and expecting everyone to do everything for you, and not over there telling me with your know-it-all smirk that I'm suicidal." Additionally, if Harry hadn't jumped in front of Buckbeak, then he might never would have spoken of trust so easily and Snape would have never felt the need to be so vicious and cruel.

Harry would not—could not—allow the growing anger to overcome him. "Which I'm not, by the way," he choked out, mercifully feeling the start of numbness sink in. "You seem to forget that Sirius Black is my godfather." Draco flinched. "That's why you're keeping lookout, however shoddy it is. Because if he's gotten past the dementors once, who's to say—"

"That he won't do it again," Draco interrupted tightly. "Why did you come back to school? You could easily afford private tutoring."

"And miss out on Quidditch? No thanks." Harry chuckled at Draco's perplexed expression. "Besides, I doubt Sirius Black wants to murder me."

The door opened and several lanterns on the walls lit up to a low-level light. Draco stood up and stepped aside. "Good evening, Madam Pomfrey," he said respectfully with a slight bow.

"I suppose he's awake," the Hogwarts Healer said sternly. Draco nodded.

Harry asked, "Is Hagrid alright?"

She set the tray with vials and measuring spoons onto the bedside table. "The first batch of antidote went directly to him."

"He was in a bad way?" Harry looked between them.

"That…" Draco glanced at the Healer and changed what he was about to say, "When Professor Hagrid came in, he was slurring his words without a whiff of alcohol on him. I don't think he would have lived through the night if my godfather hadn't made the antidote."

Harry knew all about the half-giant's habit of drinking. He was glad to hear that the half-giant had stayed sober despite the mess his first day of classes had been.

"What am I going to do with you?" Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry severely. "I wasn't happy to see that your condition had worsened when I arrived back."

Harry plucked at a thread on the bandages. "So, that's the antidote?" He looked at the nondescript blue glass vials sitting next to a blue decanter.

Letting out a ragged sigh, the Healer nodded. "Let me have my say first."

He kept plucking at the thread, not missing how Draco watched him intently. "Okay."

"You must not leave your bed while you are recovering here, or next time I'll have you restrained."

Harry waited, expecting more. When he realized that was it, he dully said, "Okay."

Madam Pomfrey opened both vials and measured out four tablespoons of one into the small squarish glass and a teaspoon of the other. Picking up a regular spoon, she stirred it furiously and offered it to Harry. "Drink every bit of it. You will have to have another dose before the poison is completely counteracted over the course of the hour."

Without doubting the Death Eater's brewing capabilities, Harry took the antidote and kicked it back, and very nearly retched it back up. He clamped his mouth shut on the foul mixture and swallowed several times. "Ugh," Harry gagged and accepted the glass of water Draco offered him. He drank more swishing it around. Even after he finished the glass, the repulsive taste had clung to his teeth. Then a moment later, he belched very loudly.

"Good one," Draco said with a hint of laughter, taking the empty glass from his hand.

"It's a sign that the antidote's taken effect," Madam Pomfrey said. "Now, are you experiencing dizziness, faintness of breath, itchiness, or a ticklish feeling in the back of your throat?"

"No," Harry said, accepting another full glass of water, and drank thirstily.

"Do you have the compulsion to scratch your eyeballs or pluck your nosehair?"

He blinked at her. "No…"

"Good, you don't seem to be experiencing any adverse effects." The witch picked up the tray. "Mr. Malfoy, I trust that you'll notify me should Harry need it."

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey. My services are at your disposal."

Harry thought Draco was really laying it on thick and wondered why he was doing that. Madam Pomfrey bustled out of view, entering her office. The lights dimmed lower.

Draco re-took the seat next to the bed. "Muffliato," he murmured. Harry frowned, wondering what he was up to.

"It'll keep our conversation private." It was a statement that Harry already knew to be true because of Snape using it around him.

Harry was stared at flatly, "What upset you so badly that your magic went wild? Prefect Tellwyenth and I found you in the corridor with the nearest suits of armor knocked to pieces."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said through clenched teeth. A mysterious breeze fluttered Draco's hair.

"Fine, but if you ever change your mind..." Draco trailed off with an irritated tone.

"I won't," Harry said.

They sat in silence for a moment as Harry thought. Sirius Black came to mind, followed by the hazy beginnings of a scheme. "Well, there is something I wanted to ask you… But maybe I shouldn't…" He tapped his lips with a finger.

"Whatever it is, ask," Draco said impatiently.

"Do you know if Sirius Black is a supporter of Voldemort?" Draco's father was definitely a supporter Voldemort and Draco had been so gleeful when he thought Harry had made himself out to be the Heir of Slytherin… so Harry thought he might know something about it.

Draco's nose turned up. "Not that I'm aware of nor is he the sort. Besides, the whole condition of his arrest rested on far too much circumstantial evidence, if you ask me."

"Which parts?" Neither had Harry any idea that Draco Malfoy was interested in Magical Law, though it might explain his interest in Cryptographic Magic.

"Well," Draco hesitated, frowning. "Almost twelve years ago, Black was the first to arrive at your house after your parents had been murdered, which could have easily been the result of either regret or grief. Second, there were no direct witnesses of the Fidelius Charm—the spell that would make Black a Secret-Keeper—being cast nor magical traces of it being cast on Black. Then, supposedly, he murdered his friend Peter Pettigrew along with a crowd of Muggles—despite Black's public love of consorting with them."

"What I find most interesting," Draco continued apparently enjoying that he had Harry's undivided attention for once, "is that all that was found of Pettigrew was a severed thumb and a pile of blood-stained robes, when the street had a large crater in it from a Disintegrating Spell... And yet Pettigrew's clothes were largely intact. They shouldn't have survived the blast."

Harry thought about that for a long moment. It did seem very suspicious.

"At any rate, I'm curious as to why there's been no public outcry to rush Black's death sentence to break the Blood Magic binding you together. It's public knowledge that he's your godfather because of the Pedigree Scroll. But I suppose, since no one's ever escaped from Azkaban before, no one considered him to be much of a danger to you."

"…" Harry nibbled on his lip thoughtfully. "So, what did Black have to do to become my godfather?"

"A godparent makes an Unbreakable Vow to protect, nurture, and provide for the godchild. The ceremony requires the living blood of a predecessor to the infant or child. Changes can't be made without that person," Draco said.

Harry thought about that. "What happens when you break an Unbreakable Vow?"

"You die, of course. That's why it's considered unbreakable." Draco smiled to himself. "Oh, I know why the Ministry's been so quick to dismiss any assertions that Black poses a danger to you. Can you imagine the scandal if Black managed to kidnap you? Fudge's administration would be lambasted by the public for his incompetence and the duffer would get impeached." Draco laughed delightedly and then noticed the unimpressed look on Harry's face. Draco took on a serious expression. "Oh, I suppose you don't know why that's funny. I don't want you kidnapped. It's my father, you see. He really wants Fudge replaced."

"You don't need to worry about me getting kidnapped. I think he's after Snape," Harry said.

"Really? What makes you think that?"

"I don't know," Harry lied, making absolutely certain that his body language matched his words, "Call it a hunch."

Draco grinned broadly. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me; it makes the cryptograph more exciting to unravel," he said, appearing to have seen through Harry's lie. "I'll ask my father over the holidays to pull the old records to refresh my memory."

"Er, you won't tell your father, will you? About me asking about Sirius Black?"

Narrowing his eyes at him, a smile curled on Draco's lips. "Hm… But it's how I win favors from him... He's always so interested to know your business, not that I tell him anything tooimportant, of course."

"What do you want?" Harry said flatly.

"Do my ears deceive me? Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is asking me for a favor?" Draco's cackle did not relieve Harry's uneasiness.

"Come off it. No need to carry on like that," Harry muttered

"I desire an end to your ridiculous friendship with Granger."

"I won't do it. Pick something else," Harry answered hoarsely. He wouldn't be able to stand it, not being friends with Hermione.

"I want you to stop speaking to her, then."

"That's it?" Harry's mind calculated that if he agreed he could still write to her… but the whole school might end up thinking that Harry hated her when he suddenly gave her the cold shoulder. "No." Harry didn't want her ostracized.

"You can still have your letters and notes, Harry…" His roommate said as if reading his mind; Harry immediately thought of his cupboard, just in case. "You can still sit by her in class even. And then I won't tell my father or anyone else of your sudden interest in the 1981 conviction of Sirius Black."

"You're a ruddy arse."

"So then we've an agreement?"

Harry breathed out. He didn't understand why Draco suddenly didn't want him to be friends with Hermione; during their first year Draco had suggested that Harry date her. "Only limited to this term. It's over when Christmas holiday starts."

"Done," Draco said immediately. "Now, back to the issue at hand. You haven't convinced me that you don't have a death wish."

"You're an insufferable git," Harry said with a low voice, his back burning from tension. "You've blackmailed me and you still believe I want to die?"

"If not for sharpening skills of influence and manipulation, what else are friends for?" Draco sounded as if he imparted a wise proverb.

"I could name several that don't include manipulation, like loyalty, trust, and friendship for the sake of friendship." When Draco gave him a condescending smile, Harry scowled, "If I wasn't hurt, I'd wipe that smirk right off your face."

Draco clucked his tongue in a disappointed manner. "My, what savage words. Here I am, doing you a favor and you're threatening to beat me."

"No. I'm going to kill you," Harry curtly informed him.

There came a quiet laugh, while Harry's anger grew and his injury burned. "Might I add that you shouldn't make threats that you never intend to follow through." Draco was inspecting his perfect nails, a clear sign that he didn't feel endangered at all. "You've saved me from a painful stay at the infirmary. I hardly think you're going to murder me."

"People's minds change!" Harry threw his words back at him. The air stirred lazily around them.

Dropping his hand, Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. "No wonder your magic goes wild if you've gotten into the habit of repressing your emotions."

Harry took a deep breath, banishing the nasty response from his mind. "Get out. We're done talking."

"Aww, is ickle Harry-kins afraid—"

Reminded of Dudley, Harry shouted, "SHUT UP!" A wind tore through the room and something made of glass exploded.

Draco stared him down as he cast a Canceling Spell, just as Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office. "What was that?" Seeing the glass container of cotton puffs in pieces, she waved her wand, "Reparo." The container was good as new, though several cotton puffs were outside of it.

Harry's face was flushed with embarrassment.

"What's going on here?" The Healer asked with an accusatory tone.

"It was his accidental magic, Madam Pomfrey," Draco responded grimly with just a bit of pity, "The pain's bothering Harry too much."

Harry's mouth flapped open, mortified. "It's not—"

"Oh you poor dear!" She glanced at the clock. "It's not too early for the last dose. I'll be right back." None the wiser of Draco's machinations, Madam Pomfrey hurried back to her office.

"You…" Harry growled.

Draco smirked. "Did you think I was charming her because she tended you so well? How romantic, Harry."

Madam Pomfrey came back, carrying the very same tray with the antidote before Harry could formulate a biting retort. She set it down and then measured the same amount from the first vial and twice as much from the second. After stirring it vigorously, she handed the blue glass decanter to Harry. "There you are, dear."

Harry's tongue curled up in anticipation. Clamping a hand over his nose, he downed the second dose. It was even worse than the first one. Harry moved his hand over his mouth as he struggled to swallow the vile concoction down. Someone had taken the empty decanter from him as Harry's eyes watered and his throat contracted in rebellion. Thankfully it went down, and he snatched the offered glass of water drinking it thirstily. His stomach ached.

"Alright dear?" Madam Pomfrey's kind voice asked.

Harry finished the glass, smacking his still-dry lips. When he opened his mouth to answer, he let out an almighty belch that reverberated throughout the room. As soon as the glass was filled, he gulped down more water. Everything tasted and smelled foul.

"Lay back down. You have fifteen minutes before I can safely heal your wounds, dear." He heard Madam Pomfrey walk away.

Sleepily, Harry belched again. Draco pulled up the covers and tucked him in. Harry glared at him, though it was difficult to maintain when his eyelids kept drooping.

"You remember the Rogue Bludger from last year? Ever since, everyone knows you've got no sense when you've to deal with pain. And now your heroic actions have cemented the notion," Draco said loftily.

"I still don't like you," Harry said through a yawn that nearly cracked his jaw.

"You don't because I've expertly cornered you into doing something you don't want to do," Draco asserted, removing Harry's Glaxxes. "Now get some rest. She can heal you up just as easily while you're sleeping."

Harry didn't want to, but when his eyes shut another time he fell asleep.


	9. Animal Testing and Boggarts

_**Author's Notes: **Oh, look. Draco's doing his usual smug thing. 'I'm going to put these facts together because it's my FAVORITE thing to do in the world and even if you deny it I will believe my deduction until you prove it's wrong.' No wonder Harry's peeved.  
_

_**Edit**: 07-04-2013 I fixed info that Harry would not be privy to (Extended Learning group in Arithmancy) since he's only had one class so far. _

* * *

It was morning on Thursday after breakfast when Madam Pomfrey finally let Harry go. Despite her best efforts, Harry's tender left arm remained in a sling. He had already cleaned up and magically Switched his clothes in the facilities adjacent to the infirmary. The Spellfast cloak was not among the provided clothes. It must not have been repairable.

Now Harry was stubbornly carrying his schoolbag in his right hand and ignoring Theodore's friendly chattering. When Harry had woken, the smirking Draco was nowhere to be seen. It was also unfortunate that the very last person Harry wanted to see was the professor of the first class he had that day.

They stepped into the Potions lab. From the looks of things, the class was halfway through the lesson already.

Harry's Slytherin year-mates looked up eagerly as he was led by Theodore to an open spot at a table next to Hermione and Ron.

"How is it, Harry?" Pansy simpered from across the aisle between the tables. "Does it hurt much?"

He sat down on his stool, placing his books next to his feet. "Don't ask silly questions. Of course it hurts," he told her tersely.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said idly, missing Harry's glare of loathing. Harry would _not _trust him again, unless it dealt with potions. Those obviously wouldn't poison him, considering that the _Death Eater_ seemed to want him alive when Voldemort returned. The game was already irritating and stupid.

He didn't miss the scowls on some of the Gryffindors' faces. Snape favored the Slytherins above all others. If some non-Slytherin had come in late, hurt or not, they wouldn't have gone without a few nasty, belittling words from Slytherin's Head of House.

Harry glanced at the blackboard for the name of the potion they working on: Shrinking Solution.

Theodore set up a cauldron for each of them and collected the potions ingredients needed for it, while Harry looked at the appropriate page in the book.

"Sir," Draco called out at the table in front of him, "Harry needs help cutting up those daisy roots because of his arm—"

"I don't need—" Harry began but was interrupted.

"Weasley, shred Potter's roots for him," Professor Snape said without looking up from the book his eyes were scanning.

Harry grimaced, looking apologetically to Ron, whose ears had turned brick red. Then Harry sent a glare at Draco before telling the Gryffindor, "You don't have to do that."

"And let _him_ deduct points?" Ron hissed under his breath. He began to thinly slice Harry's daisy roots. They weren't nearly as nicely done as his own, but Harry thought they'd suffice.

"Professor," Draco drawled, "Weasley's mutilating Potter's roots, sir."

"_Draco_, they're _fine!_" Harry hissed, pulling the slices towards him to begin creating his base.

Professor Snape had already approached the table, stared down his hooked nose at the daisy roots, and then gave Ron an unpleasant smile. "Exchange roots with Potter, Weasley, as I specifically said to _shred_ Potter's roots."

"But—!"

"_Now_," Snape said in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his beautifully shredded roots across the table to Harry and gathered the pieces he'd given to Harry. Then Ron took up a thin slice, pinching it between his fingers, with a sour look on his face.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, hating how he was being treated like an invalid, especially from the uncaring likes of a _Death Eater_.

"It's not your fault, mate," Ron bit out.

Harry looked over to see that Theodore's cauldron was already merrily bubbling. His roommate stirred it with intense concentration.

"And, sir, he'll need his shrivelfig skinned," Draco said with a voice full of malicious laughter.

"Granger, you can skin Potter's shrivelfig." Snape gave her a scathing look, daring her to retaliate.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said quietly, taking Harry's shrivelfig.

Harry opened his mouth to apologize to her, but Draco tsked at him. The memory of his deal with Draco came to the forefront of Harry's mind. With the ingredients he had, Harry started the base, trying to ignore Ron's frustrated noises at the daisy roots. The skinned shrivelfig appeared next to Harry's cauldron. Harry almost thanked her and instead looked away. Draco was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Draco asked.

"Talk to someone else, you plonker," Ron said with a jolting manner without looking up.

"I heard they're having a hearing soon to put down that vicious creature," Draco said in a tone of mock sorrow, "Father's not happy about Potter's injury."

"Keep talking, and I'll give _you_ an injury. As far as I'm concerned, it's your fault he was hurt," Ron snarled.

"Both of you hush up," Harry snapped wishing Theodore would do something about them instead of staying quiet. As usual, neither Draco nor Ron listened to him.

"He's complained to the school governors. _And_ to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like that—" Draco flicked his fingers towards Harry and then let out a fake sigh, "Who knows if the Boy-Who-Lived's arm will ever be the same?"

"You're trying to get Hagrid _fired_," Ron said, his voice quivering with anger.

"Well, _partly_," Draco lied and then dropped his voice to a whisper, "But there are _other_ benefits too." He grinned. "You'll need to thinly slice Harry's caterpillars, too, Weasley."

Ron's face turned cherry red as he complied. Hermione continued to quietly work on her potion to avoid attention from Professor Snape no doubt.

"Stop bullying him and slice them yourself," Harry said darkly, adding the shrivelfig to his bright green potion.

"Why should I, when you're sitting so much closer to _him_," Draco said primly. Harry opened his mouth and then—

"Orange, Longbottom," Snape's voice carried from the table on the other side of Ron and Hermione. Harry leaned back to see that Snape had ladled some up, allowing it to splash back into Neville's cauldron so that everyone could see its color. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does _anything_ penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only _one_ rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a _splash_ of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Harry felt sorry for Neville. The Gryffindor regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons as it was his worst subject and his great fear of Professor Snape made things even worse. Neville had gone pink and was trembling noticeably. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," Hermione said softly, "please, I could help Neville put it right—"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly, causing Hermione to go nearly as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to follow directions precisely." Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.

"Help me!" The stout Gryffindor moaned to Hermione.

Adding the sliced caterpillars to his potion now, Harry narrowed his eyes at his Head of House, who paused at his workspace. "Is there a problem, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, standing and raising his voice. "I contest the use of a personal pet as a test subject for a potion brewed by an Unlicensed, Underage Wizard."

"Is that so?" Harry's guardian said slowly.

"Yes, sir," he managed neutrally, shuttering his mind with the image of his old cupboard to keep the niggling sensation of the greasy-haired git out.

Professor Snape eyed him, but when Harry said nothing else the Potions Master nodded. "If that is your complaint, I suppose a substitute can be used."

Neville's hyperventilation eased up. Harry didn't hold his breath. He knew there had to be a catch.

"Weasley, Harry needs his rat spleen diced," Draco said snootily.

Without snapping at Draco, Ron did so without complaint.

Except Harry was having a sinking feeling as Professor Snape walked to the front of the classroom to his desk. The git yanked a box from the floor. "As per Potter's request, we shall test Longbottom's potion on this common garden rat I found wandering about," Snape went on nastily. Then he lifted the lid and pulled out a grey, balding fat rat which squealed in his hands.

"Scabbers!" Ron cried out.

Harry froze. His cauldron would have bubbled over if Theodore hadn't stirred it for him.

"This rat has been abandoned. Obviously it is no longer a pet, but a _pest._"

Ron's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again at Professor Snape.

Draco let out a low, sneering laugh.

"_You shut up!_" Ron said through clenched teeth, his fingers gooey with rat spleen.

"You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away your supplies while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's."

Harry felt dispirited. He had tried to help and only made things worse.

Crabbe and Goyle were laughing openly now, leaning closer to Neville as the poor boy stirred his potion feverishly. Whenever Snape's back was turned, Hermione muttered instructions to him out the corner of her mouth.

Feeling defeated, Harry had begun to pack up his unused ingredients.

"I'll put these away," Theodore said helpfully, gathering them up for him.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, irrationally angry that he hadn't interfered.

"It's done," Ron said morosely not a moment later.

"Thanks." Picking up the neatly diced rat spleen, Harry added it to his potion. He then stirred it and was glad to see it turn an acid green. With a tap of his wand, he lowered the heat to stew the potion as Snape had instructed.

Though Neville had always been on Snape's list of failing students, it was very apparent to Harry that Professor Snape was targeting Harry's other non-Slytherin friends, too. With the appearance of Scabbers as the test subject, there was no doubt in Harry's mind of that.

"Nice work, Harry," Draco praised. "Weasley, clean his utensils."

Harry shot a glare at him and took his ladle and stirring rod to the stone basin at the back of the classroom. After rinsing them one-handed, Harry stuck his hand under the icy jet of water that poured from the gargoyle's mouth.

"Thanks for trying to help Neville," Ron said beside him.

"A lot of good it did you," Harry muttered.

"Scabbers is old, older than Neville's toad. And I already thought that Crookshanks had gotten him…"

"Is that why Hermione and you have been fighting?"

"Partly," Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Harry… why'd you do it?"

"Because he picks on Neville enough as it is."

"No, not Snape." Ron seemed embarrassed. "Why'd you run between Buckbeak and Malfoy?"

The Slytherin looked into the redhead's clear eyes. He obviously couldn't tell the Gryffindor the truth; it wouldn't be believed. "Imagine what would have happened to Hagrid if it had been _Draco_, who'd been bedridden for three days. He'd been suspended right away, don't you think?"

"You—you did it for Hagrid?"

Snape's voice resounded in the classroom, "Everyone gather around and watch what happens to this old rat. If Longbottom has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a pinkie. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, this rat is likely to be poisoned."

Neville cowered by his cauldron as Snape grasped the wriggling rat firmly in his left hand. He dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down the screeching rat's throat.

There was a moment of silence and then a small pop, and Scabbers the tiny, dark pink baby squealed and squirmed in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking disappointed, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe. He poured a few drops on top of the baby rat and Scabbers reappeared fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said snidely. He turned to look at Hermione, holding the squealing rat tightly in his fist. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Scabbers was dropped carelessly onto the counter, and Ron scooped up the panicked rat. "Scabbers! I thought you were dead!"

Harry leaned over and picked up his schoolbag, aware that Theodore was patiently waiting for him.

"I believe you owe me an apology," Hermione said sharply.

"It was a perfectly logical assumption that that orange-furred pig killed my rat!" Ron retorted.

Hermione humph-ed and picked up her bag, rushing from the classroom.

"Harry…" He looked up, seeing Theodore hovering. "You alright?"

Embarrassed to have been caught staring, he straightened. "Yes, fine." He left the classroom, walking behind Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. It wasn't long before they made it to the top of the stairs.

"Harry, have you seen Hermione?" Ron asked, standing next to Neville. The both of them were looking around with puzzled expressions.

Harry blinked at them. "She left the classroom before we did." Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle continued to the Great Hall without sneering at the Gryffindors. Harry heard someone panting on the stairwell behind him.

"There she is," Theodore said.

Hermione was hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag while the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes beneath the collar.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked.

"What?" She said as she joined her fellow Gryffindors.

Theodore patted Harry's arm. "C'mon. I'm starved."

Harry nodded heading to the Great Hall with his house-mate. Behind him he heard Ron say, "One minute you were somewhere ahead of us, the next, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione's confused voice said, before the rest of her sentence was swallowed by the noise of the Great Hall.

* * *

The teacher wasn't there when Harry walked into the entirely windowless Ancient Runes classroom near the Ravenclaw house with Theodore. They both took a seat at the front of the classroom.

The classroom began to fill mostly with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Sally-Anne walked in with Hermione chatting breezily to her. They were both chuckling over something when they came to sit by Harry. Looking around at the faces, Harry realized that he, Theodore, and Sally-Anne were the only Slytherins in the class. Harry wondered why as he pulled out the assigned book and everything he would need to write.

A minute before class was to begin, a rosy-cheeked, black-haired witch with coffee-colored skin walked in. Her dark violet robes were covered in gold and silver stick shapes. She even had similar looking symbols hanging from her ears. "Everybody here for Study of Ancient Runes? Very good then," she called out. Pulling a quill from behind her ear, she unrolled the parchment in her hand and began calling names. At Harry's name the professor didn't even bat an eye. Once she'd finished with 'Zabini, Blaise', she rolled the parchment up. "I am Professor Babbling," she said with a smile. "Ancient Runes is a complicated, largely theoretical art. It is not an easy art. It requires no wandwork, no special incantations, only dedication to detail and precise calculation. I expect that half of you will drop out," Professor Babbling said brightly. "But never fear, what you _do_ learn will stay with you for the rest of your life."

She tapped the projector next to her and swung her wand at the lights to dim them. "Open your books to page fourteen, Chapter Two: The Runes."

Harry opened the book and jotted down notes as Professor Babbling lectured. There were a lot of drawings that came up on the slides. Harry did his best to render the runes and label them and their historical uses. Many of them were protective in nature or encouraged bounty and luck. Harry thought he'd recognized a few of them, but he wasn't sure from where.

Before he knew it, the bell for period to end had tolled. The lights turned on and the old-style projector turned off with a tap of her wand. "I want three poems, each at least three lines long, about one of the Runes we used today in class. If I catch any of you copying the other, I'll have you wear _this _during the next class." Wrapped within a thick black cloth was an innocuous white stone with a crimson red Rune on it. "You will attract _undesired_ luck until Sundown," her voice said gravely. Professor Babbling covered the stone. "Class dismissed!"

Immediately the students filtered out, chatting excitedly to one another.

After Harry had packed up, he saw that Theodore had still not woken. Harry shook his shoulder. "Hey, class is over."

Slumped to the side, Theodore only slept on blissfully. Harry was beginning to feel sleepy too and his legs nearly collapsed underneath him. The moment his hand had slipped off of his roommate the fuzziness disappeared. He stumbled to regain his balance. "Theo, wake up," he demanded lowly as the bad feeling in his gut grew worse.

"What's the matter with him, Harry?" Sally-Anne looked very worried.

"I don't know. Theo's a light sleeper; he shouldn't be out cold like this."

A Gryffindor, the very same who had bullied Harry during their first year, dropped to the floor inspecting the desk. He froze when he saw something under it. "There's an active Runic Triangle on this," he said to them. "Professor Babbling!"

"What is it, Zabini?" The average-sized witch came over from the door.

He pointed at the bottom of Theodore's desk. "I think someone carved a set of runes into this desk."

"I did," Professor Babbling said.

"Whyever for?!" Sally-Anne cried out.

The Ancient Runes Professor crossed her arms. "For practice, why else? Now, can any of you tell me how to break it?"

"Since the desk is wood and the runes used are all wind-based, the most obvious answer is to draw the reverse-Runic Triangle of the counter-runes with fire-water on his desk," Zabini answered swiftly.

"What _is_ fire-water, Zabini?"

"Carbon-based oil, professor."

"Ten points to Gryffindor." The witch pulled out a flask with an unusually shaped top. She unscrewed the cap and turned it over, quickly drawing the pattern on the desk.

Theodore started as if a thunder-clap had woken him. "What'd I miss? Blaise, what's the matter with you?"

Harry blinked. It was strange to hear Theodore talk to anyone outside of Slytherin by their first name.

Zabini looked towards the professor, who'd finished putting away the flask. "She carved a Torpor Runic Triangle into your desk and taught us how to counter it."

"_Really_?" Theodore turned an impressed expression on their Ancient Runes professor. "Oh, we're going to get along swimmingly. I thought for sure we'd only get to do _boring_ things like Runic translations."

"Good work, Zabini," Professor Babbling said with a grin, not commenting on Theodore's words, as she headed to the classroom door. "Until next time, my sweet pupils." She waved over her shoulder and left the classroom.

When there were no lofty, disparaging comments of the professor's questionable teaching method, it was then that Harry noticed that Hermione had gone somewhere. _Strange_, Harry thought. This was the sort of thing that Hermione liked to involve herself in. He filed it away, recognizing that this wasn't the first time that Hermione had mysteriously disappeared this year. He went to study period with Theodore and then to dinner.

* * *

Friday morning, Harry was looking forward to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He and the other Slytherins sat quietly as they waited. Harry began taking his things out, but Theodore told him to put them away. Frowning, Harry did so. When Professor Lupin finally arrived, he smiled vaguely at them and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train. Harry thought the regular meals in the Great Hall had likely helped the penniless professor.

"Good afternoon," the professor said. "As you all may have already heard, today's lesson will be a practical one. You will need only your wands."

Harry looked around and saw that the rest of his house-mates were eager to learn something of substance. Dueling only taught so much and those lessons were only useful against other magic-using humans. The only practical experience they'd had with magical creatures at Hogwarts was on a cageful of pixies last year, which had been set loose without the previous DADA instructor telling them how to catch them.

"Right then," Professor Lupin said, "follow me."

Intrigued, the Slytherins obediently followed their professor out of the classroom down the deserted corridor and around a corner, where none other than Peeves was floating upside down with a wicked grin on his face. "Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang, "Loony, loony, Lupin."

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Every Slytherin waited with bated breath to see how Professor Lupin would take this. To their surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd find somewhere else to be if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly.

"No gum today, loony Lupin!" However, Peeve's blew a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. "This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely." He raised his wand to shoulder height and said, "_Skurge_," twirling the tip of his wand at Peeves.

Something green splashed onto Peeves who shrieked as if acid had hit him. He whirled, cursing, and dove straight into the floor.

"Cool!" Two voices caroused together.

"Thank you, Crabbe and Goyle," Professor Lupin said, putting his wand away.

"Was that a type of Substantive Charm, sir?" Sally-Anne asked politely.

"Good eye, Perks. Five points to Slytherin."

They set off again. Harry noticed that his house-mates were looking at the shabby professor with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, outside the staffroom door. He opened it and stood back. "Inside please."

The staffroom was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. It was empty. Professor Lupin stepped in behind them, shutting the door. He beckoned the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe with mirrors on all sides. As their professor went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the floor. Several of them jumped in surprise and backed away suspiciously.

"It's nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin said calmly. "It's only a boggart."

Harry saw that most of the Slytherins relaxed, though both Crabbe and Goyle looked as if this were something to worry about. Draco eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin began. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in two days ago, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to my third years for some practice. Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart _is_?"

"A shape-shifting shade," Theodore answered. "It can take the shape of whatever it believes will frighten us most."

"Fantastic answer, Nott, five points to Slytherin," Professor Lupin said, and Theodore smiled. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out he will immediately become whatever each of us fears most."

"Sir, I respectfully disagree," Draco began with a tone that was barely courteous.

"Do you, Malfoy?" Professor Lupin asked curiously. "Which part?"

"A boggart won't know which shape to take if three or more people approach it at once."

"Correct. Another five points to Slytherin," Professor Lupin said.

Draco blinked in pleasant surprise.

"As Malfoy pointed out, we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we even begin. With our present arrangement, it will become confused. I once saw a boggart make that very mistake—it tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into slug-headed corpse. Grotesque to look at, but not very frightening. Now, can anyone tell me what repels a boggart?" Professor Lupin looked among the teenagers about him.

"Laughter, sir," Theodore supplied. "A boggart, like most Dark creatures, thrives on fear."

"Excellent, another five points to Slytherin."

Harry could sense that his house-mates were nearly preening at the generous awarding of House points.

"Simply using a tickling charm would not be very effective as the boggart would still be presenting a frightening image to us and feeding off our fear. What you need to do is force the boggart to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice this charm without wands first. After me please… _Riddikulus!_"

"_Riddikulus!"_ The class said together, excepting Draco who Harry heard tell Crabbe, "This class is _ridiculous_."

"Very good," Professor Lupin said, ignoring Draco. "However, the incantation alone is not enough. Would you step forward, Perks?"

Sally-Anne shyly did so. The wardrobe shook again, causing her to jump in surprise. Behind him, Harry heard Draco and his two underlings snicker. Harry shot them a glare.

"First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" Professor Lupin asked the shortest third-year in Slytherin.

"Acromantula," she answered promptly. Harry knew they were giant venomous spiders.

"How might you force it to look comical?"

Sally-Anne frowned.

"Perhaps you could make it tap-dance?"

She grinned. "I have a better idea."

"Good. Can you picture it very clearly?"

"Yes," Sally-Anne said with certainty.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, it will assume the shape of an acromantula, and you will raise your wand and cry '_Riddikulus_' and concentrate hard on making it into something you can laugh at." Professor Lupin turned to look at the rest of them. "When I tell you, you will form a queue. Should Perks be successful, she will move to the back of the queue and the next person will step up. The boggart will shift its attention and the process will begin anew." He looked at them. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how to force it into a shape that would make you laugh."

The room went quiet. Harry thought… what scared him most? His first thought was Voldemort or Tom Riddle returned to full strength… But before Harry could plan a possible counter-attack on the boggart, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind… a rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a rattling breath from an unseen mouth… a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning…

"Line up!" Their professor commanded.

There was a mad rush to do so. As usual Harry was near the very end with Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco. Harry hadn't moved fast enough as fear lurched through his belly. He wasn't ready. How could you make a dementor less frightening?

"Wand at the ready, Perks." Lupin stood to the side and flicked his wand at the doorknob. It turned and opened. Harry stepped away from the line and leaned to his side to see it. An incredibly large spider crawled out, the very same kind that resided in the Longbottom's forest… and the Forbidden Forest, if Neville was to be believed.

"_Riddikulus_!" Sally-Anne cried out tremulously.

The spider lifted up as if gravity had been turned off. It spun around helplessly, its legs frantically flapping about. Sally-Anne burst into loud giggles as did the rest of the Slytherins.

"Good! Bulstrode, forward!"

Bulstrode stepped forward, and the spider suddenly dropped to the ground morphing into a half-rotted corpse, its brains oozing out the side of its head. It gasped and rasped, pushing itself towards her, snuffling hungrily. She raised her wand, "_R-riddikulus!_"

Suddenly the creature that looked like a zombie was compelled to throw itself into a shuffle, both arms going to one side as it danced in a very ridiculous manner. That earned a great roar of laughter.

"Very good. Nott!" Professor Lupin roared.

Theodore excitedly jumped forward, wand pointed at the boggart.

The zombie spun around, splitting into black particles. It misted into the cracks of the floor. Something moaned, and creaked, and then Theodore's legs were surrounded by a thick black mist that appeared to be sucking him down.

"_Riddikulus!_"

Whatever it was turned into an elegant, sparkling black dress with a matching set of gloves. Theodore sashayed his hips and posed.

The class roared with approval, laughing uproariously. The dress and gloves slumped to the floor despondently.

Daphne was next. The dress turned into a trunk which hinged its lid open in a menacing manner. A spiky, whip-like tongue lolled out as it growled and drooled. "_Riddikulus!_" The trunk's tongue sprouted a violet plumage, and the chest began to choke and wheeze, spitting out feathers in a pathetic manner. Daphne howled with laughter with the rest of them.

Pansy stepped forward and a stone statue of an angel formed, but looked like nothing Harry had ever seen before. It was obviously malevolent. Its hands were outstretched towards her with a mouth wide-open, baring fangs. "_Riddikulus!"_ Some time when Harry had blinked the stone statue had tripped on its hem and had broken into many pieces on the floor. The face looked helpless at the pieces as if it hadn't meant to do that. More laughter.

Tracey was next. The stone fragments gathered and spun together and suddenly a green-skinned woman appeared hissing a forked tongue at her. From the waist down the creature's body was that of a very large snake, keeping her upright. "_Riddikulus!_" The half-snake woman's straggly black hair suddenly blindfolded her and she desperately tugged at the strands, causing a roar of laughter from Harry's year-mates.

The next fear was an… Ooze Monster. That was the first thing that popped into Harry's mind at the sight of the doddering oil blob which glurged and blubbed as it sludged towards Crabbe across the floor. "_Riddikulus!_" Crabbe cast, and the blob turned into a black, oozing Unicorn, melting like a piece of wax under the hot sun. Crabbe thought this was the most hilarious thing in the world, while the rest of them were somewhat puzzled by his laughter.

Goyle came forward and the Ooze Monster transformed into Professor McGonagall, who approached Goyle with furiously angry eyes. _"Ri-Riddikulus!"_ Goyle managed with a shaking wand. In a flash, Professor McGonagall's hair had fallen out of her usual bun and was instead frizzed out on either side of her head. Her eyes were large and insect-like behind glasses. She raised her hands and said in the breathiest voice Harry had never heard from McGonagall, "Clear your _mind_! Open your _inner eye_!"

The class roared with approval, leaving Harry and Sally-Anne guessing at why it was funny at all.

"You want to go first?" Draco murmured behind Goyle at Harry.

Harry shook his head. He still had no idea how he was going to make a dementor into something funny.

Looking rather sick, Draco stepped forward with his wand firmly tucked inside his fist. Professor McGonagall spun around and in her place was a hunched dog-like monster, taller than even the wardrobe, with vicious yellow teeth. The creature was snarling at them, drooling as if they all looked very tasty indeed.

Draco took a shallow breath, "_Riddikulus!_"

In a jiffy the monster had a silver collar around its mangy throat with a heart-shaped charm. Upon its head rested a large frilly bonnet and bows were all along its furry body. It whined as everyone laughed at its rather pathetic-looking state, and now it was Harry's turn.

When the whining wolf looked at Harry, he un-holstered and raised his wand at ready. There were several long moments, as fear pounded through Harry's mind, before the boggart morphed into a dementor. That was enough to evoke a loud gasp from Harry's classmates. He stood unmoved for a half-second as it rushed towards him.

"Here!" Shouted Professor Lupin as he hurried forward, but Harry was more quick-footed. He side-stepped the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor and cried out, "_Riddikulus!"_ Harry's Dementor suddenly sported a shiny black helmet that covered its head and a long billowing cape. The chest plate had flickering lights, and the glistening gray hands were covered with black gloves. The hollow wheezing was now a comical '_Kaa-khii!' _sound. Harry burst into uproarious laughter at the ridiculousness of its appearance.

The masked Dementor, which was actually a Boggart, turned its head side to side in puzzlement.

"Very good, Harry!" With a chuckle, Lupin stepped in front of him. A silvery-white orb hung in the air, partially hidden by dark wispy puffs. "_Riddikulus!_" he said with a relaxed tone.

_Pop!_ The orb transformed into a yellow balloon which now squealed around the room. Where the class had been silent behind Harry, they now erupted into laughter. Professor Lupin kept his wand trained on the balloon and swung it back to the wardrobe, which had its door open in wait. With a loud slam, the boggart was once again trapped.

"Excellent!" Professor Lupin said. "Well done, everyone! You should all take extra pride that none of you faltered in the face of your greatest fears in spite of the audience you had. Five points to Slytherin for every person to tackle the boggart. Plus an extra ten points to Slytherin because every person participated."

The Slytherins burst into cheers. Along with the sixty points, they'd earned fifteen before they'd started the activity: A total of seventy-five points!

"You would have earned more if I hadn't overheard any complaints whilst I was teaching." Professor Lupin looked pointedly at Draco, who nodded graciously with a much more neutral expression.

"My apologies, professor," Draco said promptly.

"Just be sure to be respectful in the future, Malfoy. I could have just as easily deducted points for every infraction," the professor said looking at everyone else. The Slytherins understood that it was a thinly veiled threat of consequence should it occur again. He clapped his hands together. "Excellent. For homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me. One foot of parchment should do it… to be handed in next Friday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Re-holstering his wand, Harry, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Professor Lupin had deliberately tried to stop him from attempting to subdue the boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Harry collapse on the train and thought he wasn't up to muster? Had he thought Harry would pass out again?

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Art lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" Sally-Anne's voice swam up behind him.

"He seems like a very good teacher," Pansy agreed.

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" Bulstrode asked with a puzzled tone.

It seemed no one had noticed that Harry hadn't followed them out… "Are you coming, Harry?" Theodore called out.

"I'll be right there. I wanted to ask our professor something," Harry answered over his shoulder.

"I'll be in the corridor," his friend responded, shutting the door behind him.

"What is it, Harry?" Professor Lupin sounded concerned. The wardrobe banged behind him.

Harry smothered the irritation he felt when the professor called him by his first name. Harry _had_ noticed that he was the only Slytherin Professor Lupin didn't call by family name.

"Would you like to sit down?" Professor Lupin took a seat at one of the rather comfortable-looking chairs.

"I'm fine, sir." Harry remained standing. "Why did you try to stop me?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," the professor said, sounding surprised.

Harry, who had expected the adult to deny that he'd done any such thing, was taken aback. "I don't see why," he said sourly, trying to keep the sulkiness out of his voice. Obviously, Professor Lupin thought he was a fainting ninny.

"Well," his DADA professor said, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the boggart faced you, it would take on the shape of Lord Voldemort."

Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name. The only person Harry had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore.

"Clearly, I was wrong," Lupin said, frowning still. "My apologies, I didn't think it was a good idea for that evil wizard to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people might panic."

"I did think of Voldemort… at first." Harry paused. "But then I remembered that night on the train… and the dementor."

"I see," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Well, well… I'm impressed." He smiled softly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't help thinking that Professor Lupin was warm in all the ways that Professor Snape was cold.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?" The DADA professor looked at him shrewdly.

It caught Harry by surprise. "Well… yes."

"What do you think now?"

"I think you don't give Slytherins much credit. I doubt the others would have panicked at all had they seen Voldemort. He's not that scary in his a sixteen-year-old form or as a nose-less specter attached to the back of someone's head," Harry answered honestly.

"I give you and your house-mates far more than they expect," Professor Lupin countered. "How do you know that you aren't overestimating their courage?"

Harry paused thoughtfully. It wasn't courage that would have prevented their panic; many of them respected Voldemort's 'noble' aims, which was the reduction of the stigma against the Dark Arts;. It was something that Harry didn't believe justified the slaughter of his parents twelve years ago. Harry decided that he probably shouldn't air these thoughts, however. "I know them, alright? They'd be intellectually curious. It's not like there are handy photographs of Voldemort lying about."

Professor Lupin nodded. "Quite so."

"I should go. Theo's waiting for me," Harry said courteously.

"Harry, one last thing..." The professor's kind eyes met Harry's eyes steadily. "Our pain becomes the dementors' power. You can't fight a dementor by forcing your negative feelings away."

"I understand," Harry said, wondering why the professor thought he would ever want to face a real dementor again. He left the room; Theodore was holding Harry's schoolbag while his own was strapped to his back, but when Harry reached forward to retrieve it Theodore's fist tightened considerably around the straps.

Harry frowned, dropping his hand. "I thought you were going to stay in the corridor?"

Theodore tossed his gaze upwards flippantly. "I knew you needed to talk to the professor about his desire to save you from the scary boggart."

Trying not to look annoyed, he gave Theodore a flat stare and wiggled his free, unhurt hand expectantly. "I'm not completely crippled," Harry said tartly.

"But this way we both have our wand-hands free, my clueless friend. Do you really think that Sirius Black would simply stop at abducting you?" Theodore said.

Harry ground down his jaw and followed after him. Harry couldn't very well tell him why Black wouldn't hurt him as that information would then spread to the others like an infectious disease. He hoped that Neville had kept his mouth shut about that.

That afternoon, Harry was paired up with Michael Corner in Double Herbology class. They were harvesting shining beans from a puffapod. If one missed the pail, the beans would burst into bloom right before their eyes the moment they touched the ground.

Corner was a quiet bloke with black hair and piercing blue eyes who was also in Arithmancy with Harry. Harry had often seen him chatting with Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, two other Ravenclaws in his year.

Harry pulled off another feathery pod from the plant and carefully cracked it open to reveal the black beans inside.

"Potter, may I ask you about your boggart's shape?" Corner asked very quietly in the noisy room.

"Why?" Harry didn't want to be teased about it.

"I heard the boggart turned into a dementor for you. I would have expected—"

Harry chuckled. "Yes, most people would, wouldn't they? But a dementor's worse than Voldemort."

Obviously startled to hear the evil wizard's name, Corner's finger slipped and a few beans bounced off the table onto the dirt-packed floor, sprouting.

"Careful, Corner!" Professor Sprout called out.

"Padma wasn't joking about your forthrightness." The Ravenclaw gave him a crooked smile. "I suppose both can drive you mad, one through torture and the other through the severing of happiness. Where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can only cleave one's soul from the body, only a dementor can suck a soul out and leave a still-breathing husk behind."

"What did your boggart turn into?" Harry asked.

"A blackhole. I thought for sure it would have been a supernova ripping through the fabric of space. But a supernova doesn't have the attendant time dilation and infinitesimally small point of origin."

Harry blinked at the Ravenclaw. A blackhole? Obviously, Corner was a Muggle-born. "How did you…"

"Well," Corner let out a small laugh, "I gave it arms and a sign that insisted it needed a hug to change its ways. The sheer absurdity of that made everyone laugh." Placing the emptied seed pod to the side, Corner snapped off another one. "How did you make the dementor look ridiculous?"

"I turned it into Darth Vader."

Michael Corner burst into surprised laughter, startling the rest of the Herbology class.

Harry smirked, inordinately pleased that someone at least understood what he'd done.


	10. Sleeping in the Great Hall

_**Author's Notes: **Oh look. Ginny is concerned about Harry too.  
_

* * *

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a favorite amongst the classes for Slytherins, besides Draco who could find reason to be offended by a flobberworm if he wanted.

"Look at the state of his robes," he would say to Harry in aside as they walked out of Professor Lupin's class. "You would think on Hogwarts' salary he would be able to at least afford second-robes that weren't so tattered."

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied red caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From red caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

During Arithmancy, Harry had been placed into the 'Extended Learning' group with Hermione and a few other Muggle-borns. They began advanced lessons in algebra and geometry while the rest of the class worked on their basic arithmetic. It wasn't very difficult to Harry. The lessons were structured so that he could get the homework done in class after he finished the class work.

Harry's least favorite class was Potions, and not because of the easy, detail-oriented course-load; as a Slytherin, Harry was treated as superior to other Houses, but Harry could not shake off the hypocritical and unfair behavior of the Potions Master. in addition, the bullying adult had continued being particularly vindictive towards Neville.

Of course, Harry interceded when the bullying was too vicious to be allowed; the only positive change with the greasy-haired git was that Harry wasn't given detention for his cheek, so long as he was making a polite suggestion rather than confronting the adult head-on.

When Harry remarked on this to Theodore, he learned that Neville's boggart had assumed Snape's form. It was Draco who went further, describing how Neville had cast the Ludicrous Charm and placed the Snape-boggart into clothing that sounded uncannily like Mrs. Longbottom's.

Harry had laughed terribly hard at this. Draco appeared outraged that his godfather was being laughed at. It certainly explained why Snape's eyes would flash dangerously at the mention of Professor Lupin or boggarts, and why he'd targeted Neville. Not that it excused the adult for any of his nasty, childish behavior, but it would certainly help Harry in avoiding this particular pitfall with Snape.

Meanwhile, the hours spent in Professor Babbling's stifling room deciphering anagrams and runic circles was also something Harry dreaded. He tried not to trouble himself about who would be trapped next in her Runic Patterns. Ever since the first class, the students had desperately looked for an obvious clue to avoid Theodore's fate. Harry had taken to simply picking a new seat each time since the students who remained in the same seat over and over again —like Hermione—were more likely to be caught. By the fifth week of school, the first week of October, nearly half of the students had dropped out as Professor Babbling had predicted. Even though she was treated with respect bordering reverence by Sally-Anne, Theodore, and Zabini, Harry couldn't like the Ancient Runes professor.

Hermione, at least, was in agreement with Harry. "It's not right the way she teaches us. The Runic Arts aren't to be trifled with so frivolously. One of these days, someone is going to be sent to the infirmary!" Harry hoped the Gryffindor wouldn't drop out of the class; he missed seeing her when they didn't share the same class, even when he didn't say a word to her. He'd sent her letters, but her responses hadn't been as put together as they normally were. Apparently, her workload was very hefty. Harry thought she might be doing far more school work than was really necessary to pass her classes, but forgave her for what was a minor personal failing.

As for Care of Magical Creatures, very few liked it after the first action-packed class. The lessons had become dull, not that Harry particularly minded. The class was now spending lesson after lesson learning to look after flobberworms. He rather preferred boring creatures over dangerous ones. Poor Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence and was constantly looking to Harry for permission. The professor must feel so guilty about the hippogriff's attack that to make amends he tried to subordinate himself to Harry, a mere student. Harry of course never had anything bad to say about his lessons, which seemed to miff the Gryffindors.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" Ron's loud voice complained, after they had all spent another hour poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' slimy throats.

"To get a common ingredient to thicken potions and an important component in Sleeping Draughts, you idiot," Draco muttered under his breath. Harry gave him a wry smile, appreciating that he, for once, didn't bait the quick-tempered Gryffindor. Across from Harry, Goyle and Crabbe exchanged a look.

Sally-Anne as usual was silent and observant as she progressed on the task Hagrid had given them.

With the start of October, Harry had something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable it more than made up for his unsatisfactory classes and his left arm that occasionally twinged even after Madam Pomfrey had removed the sling and bandages. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Team Captain, had called practice to get the Slytherin team ready for the new season.

There were seven people who could actively play during a Quidditch match: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, globe-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot high hoops at each end of the field for ten points each; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two leather balls that were Enchanted to zoom around and attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch (a winged, walnut-sized ball Enchanted to evade capture) which ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points. Besides those required seven fliers, a team could have reserve teammates on standby.

Marcus Flint was muscular and broad-shouldered with shifty grey eyes and a protruding overbite. He was supposed to have graduated last year, but as Harry had understood it Flint had failed too many of his N.E.W.T.S. and had to repeat a year.

"Alright, listen up," Flint's voice boomed, "Malfoy tells me that Hogwarts is rumored to host the Triwizard Tourney next year, and we all know that there won't be any Quidditch matches if that's the case."

Harry wasn't sure what the Triwizard Tournament was, but it must be rather important if Quidditch was cancelled for it. Hogwarts students were absolutely mad about Quidditch.

"Montague and I have changed the line-up," Flint continued, "Pucey, you'll be on Reserve this year so Warrington can get some experience in as a Chaser. Montague, I know you're ready to be Captain, so I'll let you call most the plays this season. Then you'll be good and ready to be Quidditch Captain next season. Malfoy, this year I want you trained as a Keeper so you'll be able to step in if something happens to Bletchley. Derrick and Bole, I want you to keep an eye out for a pair of younger housemates who'd make decent Beaters, and start training them off-broom. I expect Wood's desperate to win the Quidditch Cup for his house since he'll be graduating at the end of the year, so Urquhart—" Flint looked at the newest addition to their Quidditch Team. "You're here in case we need another Chaser." Flint pumped his right fist into the air. "Let's show those Gryffindors what it means to be the best Quidditch team in Hogwarts!"

They screamed their assent.

Full of purpose, the Slytherin Quidditch Team started training sessions, every Friday and Saturday evening. The weather was getting colder and wetter, and the nights darker. Unlike last year, Montague said it would be good for them to continue practicing in not-so-perfect conditions, so that no amount of mud, wind, or rain could slow them down during a match. As Slytherin's Seeker, Harry had happily suited up with the set of Quidditch pads Daphne had gifted him. Despite the pads being surprisingly flexible and lightweight, Harry had to spend agonizing hours re-calibrating and re-orienting himself on his broom; in addition to the pads, his left shoulder-blade pulled whenever he made a sharp turn or dip. Just those slight differences made his final approach vector to the Snitch slower or less reactive and Harry wanted nothing to prevent his catching of the Snitch. Fortunately, none of his teammates seemed to have noticed his predicament.

One evening after returning his broom to Flint after a particularly rough training session where he'd had to dodge Bludgers, Harry went back to the Slytherin common room. He was looking forward to sitting quietly in front of the roaring fire to warm his freezing limbs and stretch his stiff, sore body, except he found the common room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" Harry asked Theodore, who was sitting close to the roaring hearth at the center of the room. His roommate was reading Unfogging the Future.

"First Hogsmeade weekend is on Halloween," Theodore said nonchalantly.

"Excellent," Draco said gleefully from behind Harry's right shoulder. "That Firebolt in Three Hoops is mine."

Quidditch pads creaking, Harry slumped into the empty chair closest to the fire next to Theodore, his high spirits at improving his flying performance in Quidditch ebbing away.

"Once Black's caught, I'm sure you'll be allowed to go," Theodore said to him quietly. Harry wondered if his friend might be a Legilimens, too.

"I can always order it by owl," Draco said indifferently, "And I've already been to Hogsmeade plenty of times."

Harry looked at them with a blank look. "I can keep myself entertained, thanks. Besides you'll miss the opportunity of lessened adult supervision if you don't go, Draco."

"You know me so well." Draco's teeth were very white when he smiled, likely thinking about harassing the students he didn't like. "I'm going to get myself cleaned up and go to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Theodore and Harry responded.

Still smirking, their roommate went up the tower stairs.

* * *

A few weeks later, on Halloween morning, Harry awoke before the rest of his roommates and did his usual exercise-and-stretch regime. By the time everyone was ready, Harry went up to breakfast. He felt off, but did his best to act normally. He'd spent the last week enduring several excited conversations of what his housemates were going to do first once they'd made it to Hogsmeade. Harry saw that Draco and his two pawns were speaking to another older year. Harry wondered what he was up to. Was the other teen covering his bases before he bullied or simply seeking information? Draco often talked to their older housemates during mealtimes; he'd done the very same thing last year.

Towards the end of breakfast, Ginny Weasley surprised Harry by popping up beside him; she seemed oblivious to the hostility from the Slytherins sitting around him. "I heard you can't go to Hogsmeade, Harry. I know someone who could forge—"

"You're not very smart, are you?" Tracey laughed. "If that was truly an option, we would have already suggested it. It would be too easy to verify Professor Snape's signature, so the chances of Harry getting caught and given detention is nearly certain. And, the professor's already warned the prefects that Harry is not to be seen in Hogsmeade. So he can't very well sneak out either, can he?"

Harry might've snuck out if he'd gotten his magic cloak back from Snape. Unfortunately the Death Eater would know what Harry was up to the moment he asked for his priceless family heirloom back. Harry had already tried to use the Summoning Charm on it to no avail.

Face reddening, Ginny frowned. "Look, you. Can't you see he's depressed? Have any of you tried to cheer him up?"

Harry thought he was hardly depressed.

"You've spent an awful lot of time staring at him," Daphne said, appraising her.

"Have not. Anyone with eyes can see it."

"Not unless they're a Legilimens, which you aren't." Daphne grinned with the look of someone who was about to impart an embarrassing secret. "Admit it; you're madly in love with him."

Tracey, Pansy, and Bulstrode laughed at that announcement.

Every part of Ginny's pale skin from her neck up turned scarlet. "I am not."

"Is that so?" Pansy said with a leer. "I heard you made Seeker for Gryffindor's team. Did you think it might make you stand a head above his other admirers?"

"I loved Quidditch before I even met Harry, and I love it now! Unlike someone with a birdbrain like yours, no boy would make me go silly enough to like what I don't!" Ignoring the mocking noises from Pansy and her friends, Ginny Weasley stormed away. She was completely unresponsive to the nasty taunts of Slytherins down the table.

"Rawr," Bulstrode uttered and the other three laughed uproariously at that.

Harry sighed and poked at the rest of his steak with a fork.

"We'll bring you sweets back from Honeydukes," Sally-Anne offered, looking sad on Harry's behalf.

"Or," Theodore said, "I could buy something for you from Three Hoops."

The last thing Harry wanted was pity from his friends. "Don't worry about me," he said in what he hoped was a casual voice, "I want you both to have fun without worrying about me."

"We want you to have fun too," Sally-Anne insisted.

"I'll read or something."

Thankfully, they were used to this response from him and dropped it at that.

He accompanied them to the Entrance Hall where Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, was addressing the third years. By her side was Argus Filch, the Caretaker of Hogwarts, who was checking off names against a long list. He accepted signed permission slips from the students who'd waited the last moment and wrote their name onto the list.

"Remember, these visits to Hogsmeade are a privilege. Should your behavior reflect poorly on our school in any way that privilege shall not be extended again," Professor McGonagall said primly.

"Those with permission, follow me. Those without, stay put." Filch looked nastily in Harry's direction. Harry obediently went to stand on the steps.

"Staying? Are you that scared of passing the dementors, Potter?" Finnigan's voice cut through the crowd.

"I'd be careful if I were you Finnigan," Draco shouted, "I bet that banshee was wailing for you!"

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall scolded.

Harry's housemates and other friends—Neville, Ron, and Hermione—waved good-bye and then he watched them walk past the fountain in the courtyard. He turned and listlessly made his solitary way through Hogwarts, having no destination in mind.

"Hey, Harry." It was Ginny. She stepped next to him, keeping in step with him.

"Hi." He continued walking unenthusiastically down the corridor.

Ginny walked with him. "Where're you going?"

"Library," he said.

"Oh."

Halfway there he changed his mind. There wasn't anything in particular he wanted to work on right now. He sighed.

"What are you sighing about?"

He looked at her. She had a bright, encouraging smile. Harry thought she might not leave him alone even if he ignored her. "Do you really like Quidditch?"

"Yes," she said with the air of a person used to being doubted.

"You're the only girl I know who does," he said, turning to climb another staircase. He thought vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig.

"I noticed there weren't any girls on the Slytherin Team. Ron thought it was because your house had rules against it."

"No, there's no interest. There weren't any girls at the tryouts." Now that it came to his attention, he remembered that every other House had girls on their teams. "Maybe their parents don't let them," he said.

"Maybe," she said. "So, where are we going?"

"Nowhere at the moment."

She chuckled. "Okay." When the silence stretched too long, Ginny then began to talk at length about how difficult it'd been to get her brothers to play informal Quidditch matches at home with her. At first, they hadn't wanted to because they saw a weak little girl without any skill instead of someone who was passionate and eager to learn. "Years later, when I became good at scoring points, Fred and George changed the rules or gave me handicaps," she said proudly. "I'm sure they meant to bully me out of wanting to play but it made me a better flier instead, and I liked the challenge."

"What's your favorite position?"

"Chaser, but I'm nowhere near the skill compared to the others, and they needed someone small and skilled on a broom to compete with you. You fly like you were born on a broom."

"Thanks. It's one of the only things I'm good at."

Ginny laughed at that. "Ron says you're good at Potions, too."

"It helps that I don't have a hostile Potions Master breathing down my neck every time I brew." He glanced at her. "And it's not that different from cooking something that requires the directions to be followed precisely. Except with more wandwork."

"You cook?"

"I did," Harry hedged, wishing he hadn't brought it up because she appeared excited for some reason. As they were walking along another corridor, a voice called out from one of the rooms. "Harry? Ginny?"

Ginny paused before she asked anything, and they both peered through the open door. They had made it to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, without even noticing.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," came Professor Lupin's warm voice.

"You aren't. My friends are in Hogsmeade." Harry attempted to say this like it didn't bother him at all.

"I thought he might like company," Ginny said.

"Ah," the professor said, considering them for a moment. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken a delivery of grindylow for my third-year classes."

Harry had already seen the creatures outside the Slytherin common room's windows and read about them in Newt Scamander's reference text. So when he stepped into the professor's office it wasn't with surprise when he saw a large tank of water.

Ginny made a noise of disgust at the sickly green creature with little horns on its head and face, octopus tentacles where the legs should be. Reminded of Ra-ee-ahtri's pet, Harry thought the water demon looked mostly harmless. At the moment, its face was pressed against the glass in between long, spindly fingers pulling faces at them.

"You shouldn't have much difficulty with him, Harry, not after the kappas last week. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle," Professor Lupin said, surveying the solitary grindylow thoughtfully.

Having possibly overheard Professor Lupin, the grindylow bared its green teeth in a threatening manner and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in the corner.

"We've just dealt with Nogtails," Ginny said. "Might be a good idea to have a white crup just to keep them away."

Harry didn't remember what those were, though he knew they were a type of Dark creature.

"Yes, largely harmless unless you want to grow food," Professor Lupin said agreeable. "Would either of you like a cup of tea?" Professor Lupin looked around until he found a kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."

"Okay," Harry said awkwardly.

"Yes, please," Ginny said with more enthusiasm.

Professor Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand, and a blast of steam issued from the spout. "Have a seat." The professor took the lid off a dusty tin. "How do you take your tea?"

"Two lumps of sugar," Harry answered.

"Two lumps, and a great dollop of cream."

"Your classes going alright?" Professor Lupin made Ginny's tea first and then Harry's.

"Yes," Ginny said. "This year is going much better than last. It helps that I made it on the Quidditch team. Any frustrations I have can get worked out during practice."

"That would do it," the professor agreed, setting the cups of prepared tea in front of her and Harry. "And you, Harry?"

Harry took a sip of the tea, warming his icy fingers. He didn't need to talk about the upcoming court case over who was going to be his legal guardian or his spat with Snape.

"I apologize if this sounds forward, but you look as if you need to share what's on your mind," Professor Lupin said.

Harry fished around his head, thinking of what might be relevant... and then remembered what he'd heard on the train, what Harry now heard in his dreams. He glanced at Ginny and suddenly the words locked in his throat. "It's nothing."

"If you want to talk to him alone, I can go," Ginny offered.

Taking another swallow of tea, he set it on the provided saucer and turned the cup. "It's not that important," he said to the table.

Setting the tea cup down, Ginny stood. "Thank you for the tea, Professor Lupin."

"You're very welcome, Ginny."

"See you around, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said, distracted. Once she had gone, he fumbled with his cup. The silence grew intense.

"You know, it's quite alright if you don't want to share," the professor said amiably.

Harry stared at the surface of his tea. "I want to talk about… how I heard someone scream on the train."

The adult was an excellent listener. He waited instead of prompting Harry.

Watching the steam rise from his hot drink, Harry took a long breath. "It was a woman," Harry told the teacup. "I'm fairly sure she was my mother, the night she was murdered..." Harry looked up at Professor Lupin whose expression showed a complicated mix of loss and wariness. "I've never told anyone, but after Voldemort's spirit attacked me two years ago I think a memory came to the surface. I heard him tell my mum to step aside. She wouldn't, so he killed her. Then he came for me." Harry took a sip of the tea to wet his dry lips.

There was a long pause. Harry expected that most people wouldn't know what to say to that and would change the subject.

"I'm sorry that you've experienced something so terrible," came the professor's soft voice. "You were just a toddler when it happened."

Harry found that he was the one lost for words. He looked up into kind grey eyes.

"You know… The very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately."

He lifted a hand to his forehead.

"Not by your scar, but by your eyes." Professor Lupin looked off distantly. "They're your mother's, Lily's, eyes."

"I…" Harry knew that his mother had the exact shade of green he had, but that meant that—

"Yes," Professor Lupin nodded, standing. "Oh, yes. I knew her." He paced over to his small suitcase of books, his hands clutching at the spines. "Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was."

Harry listened attentively.

"Not only was she a singularly gifted witch… she was also an uncommonly kind woman," Professor Lupin told the window.

It was not the first time Harry had heard that his mother was brilliant at magic and known for her kindness. He grimaced knowing it was Snape who'd told him that. Harry preferred to think of the talking mirror's description of her: Beautiful and full of love for Harry.

The professor seemed lost in thought for a moment and then said, "She had a way of seeing the good in others even, and most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves."

Harry felt a bitter smile curve his lips as he took another drink of his cooling tea. That happy-sad feeling he'd first experienced in front of the Mirror of Erised clawed inside his chest like a hippogriff's talons. He missed his parents terribly, even though he'd never known them.

"And your father, James, and I were friends… and he on the other hand… he… Hm." Professor Lupin chuckled, turning to look at Harry fondly. "He had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed on to you."

There was a knock on the door before Harry had thought to defend himself.

"Come in," Professor Lupin called.

The door opened and in came Professor Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.

"Ah, Severus," the DADA professor said smiling, "Thank you."

The greasy-haired git set down the smoking goblet on the desk in front of Professor Lupin, his eyes wandering between him and Harry. Harry scowled at him.

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" Professor Lupin said pleasantly, pointing at the window.

"Mesmerizing," Snape said without looking outside. "You should drink that directly," he told Lupin as if Harry weren't there.

"Yes, yes I will."

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued, "should you need more."

"I'll take some more tomorrow. Thank you, Severus."

Snape turned to Harry. "You have detention. Now."

"What have I done this time?" Harry bit out.

"You did not attend lunch."

Instead of arguing on that point, Harry asked, "Why are you personally delivering potions to Professor Lupin?"

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted this potion for me since I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex," Professor Lupin answered.

"Why—?"

"Potter, that is none of your business."

"It's alright, Severus. He's only curious." Professor Lupin gave Harry a smile. "I've been feeling off-color and this potion is the only thing that helps. I'm very lucky to be working alongside Potions Master Snape since there aren't very many who could brew it." As Professor Lupin took a sip and shuddered, Harry fought the urge to knock the goblet out of his hands. He trusted that it was not within the Death Eater's benefit to poison Harry, but he was not so sure the same case could be applied to Professor Lupin who held the very teaching position Snape wanted. "Pity sugar makes it useless," the professor added, taking another gulp of potion.

Snape's hand grasped Harry by the shoulder and began to pull him backwards from the room. "We will be on our way, professor."

Harry thought that Snape's behavior was very odd.

"I'll see you at the feast later," Professor Lupin said.

Once they'd left the office, Snape swung the wand he'd already had in hand at Lupin's door, closing it slowly.

Harry blinked. Snape only ever took his wand out if he meant to use it… or if he felt there was some danger. "You're acting strangely," Harry said, narrowing his eyes, "Paternal, even."

Snape snorted and flicked his hands in the direction of the dungeons. "Move," he said snidely, "And collect your schoolbag before you enter the Potions lab for detention."

Harry deliberately dragged his feet, not particularly enjoying the thought.

Once he fetched his bag and made it to the dungeon classroom, Snape set Harry to work brunoising cod liver.

After nearly an hour of that, Harry placed the tiny cubes of liver into a jar and then into a cupboard that had a Cooling Charm on it. He then cleaned up his station. Standing a good distance away, Harry finally asked the Potions Master, "Where are Lucy and Sam? It's been several weeks already."

"How should I know?" Snape answered with a severe look. "Pull out your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and turn to page three hundred ninety-four."

"Are you ever going to return my Invisibility Cloak?" Harry pulled it out, along with a blank piece of parchment and his writing tools.

"You missed your window of opportunity."

"You said you would give it to me after I spent the night in the infirmary!"

"No, you specifically asked for it to be returned the day after I received it, that was the only day I would have willingly returned it to you this year," Snape said, obviously relishing his use of a verbal loophole. "Now, turn to page three hundred ninety-four."

Harry slammed the book open, flipping to the page specified. Draco's greatest fear, the dog-like creature, appeared on the page. "Werewolves? But we just covered kappas," Harry said, puzzled.

"You will write an essay, to be handed in to me, on how to distinguish between the werewolf and a true wolf, the ways you recognize an un-Changed werewolf, and lastly how to kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject and I want them by the second Monday of November. Do you understand?"

"I don't."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Don't be smart with me. Tonight is hardly the night to test my patience."

Remembering it was the Thirty-First of October, the night that Harry's parents had been murdered and Voldemort had been destroyed, Harry met his black eyes steadily. "I don't understand why you want me to learn about them all of a sudden."

"Because they are dangerous," Snape hissed out, his yellowed teeth bared.

"Only one night out of the month," Harry argued, gesturing to the open book. "Otherwise, they're just like everyone else."

Snape snorted. "I want two rolls of parchment by Monday."

"What?! But I only have two days—"

"And if you do not, I will assign twice as many detentions for each day the essay is late."

"You are a bastard," Harry growled.

"Detention for your insolence," Snape said already appearing as if he was thinking of more important things, "Tomorrow."

As Harry ground his teeth down, the greasy-haired git slowly stalked to his classroom office, leaving the door open. Cursing under his breath, Harry began to read the chapter on werewolves.

* * *

"There you are!" Theodore said, his head poking into the Potions classroom. "The Bloody Baron said you were down here. What'd you do?"

"I lost track of time and skipped lunch," Harry said, frantically writing another sentence on the strength and healing ability of un-Changed werewolves.

"What's he assigned you?" A large bag was set on the table next to Harry but he didn't even look up.

"Two rolls of parchment to be turned in by Monday," Harry answered, adding another sentence about the protein intake requirements of an un-Changed werewolf.

Theodore's shadow fell over him. "Werewolves, huh."

"What do you mean, huh," Harry said, taking the moment to rest his cramped hand. He'd managed to write half a roll already.

"Well we both can detect them, can't we? No need to know any of this," Theodore said as he gestured to the drying ink of parchment.

Harry blinked and then pushed his hand through his fringe. "Merlin, I forgot to put it back on."

"Yeah, it would be nice to wear it with dementors circling about the grounds, wouldn't it?" Theodore teased. "Why'd you take it off?" His friend sat on the stool next to him.

Harry hesitated, took out his wand, and then cast "Muffliato." Theodore's blue eyes looked at him with question. "I smuggled in a breeding pair of Lionsnakes."

Theodore gave a surprised laugh. "What!? Bloody hell, that's amazing. How did you get them? A breeding pair even!"

"Longbottom has an established colony of them in the forest surrounding his home, courtesy of his parents," Harry said, brightening at Theodore's impressed tone. "I'm not sure where Lucy and Sam are at the moment; they should turn up eventually."

The color drained from Theodore's face. "Wait, please tell me the headmaster knows."

Harry gave him a look. "Of course he does. I wouldn't want them eviscerated by the wards."

Theodore relaxed. "Oh good. He's probably helping them get situated. Want to go ask him when you're ready for a break?"

Canceling the spell, Harry grimaced. "Maybe next weekend. I have to get this done by Monday."

His friend looked at the parchment with a sympathizing look. "Well, I'd let you, but I thought you might want to know that the Halloween Feast starts in about fifteen minutes."

Standing up, Harry quickly gathered his things and shoved them into the schoolbag. He paused by Snape's office. The wizard was staring off as if he could peer straight through the stone of Hogwarts' foundation. "Professor, we're going to dinner."

Snape looked up. "Very well." His tone was oddly subdued and lacking any heat.

Harry almost asked him what was the matter but Theodore pulled him away. "Don't push your luck. He looks like he'd down a bottle of Firewhiskey if he wasn't our Head of House."

Shrugging, Harry climbed the stairs to the Entrance Hall and then crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the enchanted ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious as usual. Harry kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful talking animatedly with Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, who sat by another professor who was dressed in Muggle clothes and was reading a book that had a picture of Stephen Hawking upon it. Harry assumed she was the Muggle Studies professor. Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, was chatting with a bushy-haired professor with thick glasses, reminding Harry of Goyle's frizzle-haired McGonagall-boggart. She must be the Divinations professor who was obsessed with the 'Inner Eye'.

On the other side of Madam Hooch, Professor Hagrid was drinking quite a bit, and the flamboyantly dressed Professor Dumbledore smiled every time Harry met his twinkling eyes. Beside the headmaster, Professor McGonagall, the Transfigurations teacher, was engaged in conversation with Professor Sprout, who sat beside Professor Vector, Professor Babbling and Madam Pomfrey.

When the dessert course came out, Harry noticed that Snape had finally joined the other staff at the High Table. Snape didn't touch the food that had appeared in front of him and hardly looked at the Slytherin table. Instead, the Potions Master's eyes kept flicking toward Lupin more often than Harry thought was normal.

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables doing formation gliding. The Bloody Baron was ballroom dancing above the Slytherin table with another female ghost Harry didn't recognize. Despite the bright silver blood down the front of his robes, the Bloody Baron looked very lordly.

It had been such a pleasant evening after the grind of essay-work that Harry's good mood couldn't be spoiled by Finnigan who shouted at Harry as he left the Great Hall with Theodore and Sally-Anne, "The dementors send their love, Potter!"

"Finnigan hasn't yet figured out that the reason he's been to the infirmary so often in the past two weeks is because he can't keep his mouth shut," Theodore said under his breath with a dark glint in his eye as they went down the stairs, surrounded by other Slytherins chatting to one another. "How unlucky does a bloke have to be to find mildly hexed and cursed objects keyed to him?"

"Theo…" Harry said and then decided that criticizing him might make him do it even more.

"What? Bullies don't stop unless they're given ample motivation to."

He sighed.

"It's much better than whatever Draco's planning," Sally-Anne said.

"What's he planning?"

They stepped off the staircase and onto the stone floor leading to the Thin Lady's portrait.

"He's gathered up a group of Slytherins to corner Finnigan and his ilk next time we go to Hogsmeade."

Of course Draco would wait until Finnigan was in Hogsmeade to avoid Harry's inevitable intervention. "Theo, can you make sure it doesn't go too far?"

"Sure," Theodore said, "But you might want to talk to him yourself. He'd listen to you."

They stopped at the edge of a crowd. The Thin Lady looked at them all with pursed lips.

"Make way!" Prefect Gilbert said, pushing through the crowd. "Why haven't you let anyone through yet?" He asked the portrait.

"You must return to the Great Hall, immediately," she said sharply. "On Professor Snape's orders."

"You heard her!" Prefect Farley said, but when no one moved she called out, "You in the back! Go back upstairs!"

"What's going on?" "Why do we have to go back?" "I'm tired!" Despite sounding frustrated, they obediently went back upstairs.

Not ten minutes later, they re-entered the Great Hall, noticing that all the other students from other houses were there as well. The Slytherins watched apprehensively as Professor McGonagall and Caretaker Filch closed all the doors.

"I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice carrying over the hushed heads of the students in the Great Hall. "I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl in authority. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately by one of the ghosts. The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. You are not to leave this room."

"Where are we going to sleep?" Draco hissed next to Harry's ear.

About to leave the hall, the headmaster paused and said, "Oh yes, you'll be needing…" One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls. Another wave and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," Professor Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly.

"Harry!" A young voice cried out. "Harry! Sirius Black attacked the Fat Lady!"

Harry turned and saw Colin Creevey, a second year Gryffindor, with his camera hanging from a leather strap around his neck. "Who's the Fat Lady?"

"She's the portrait who holds the password to get into Gryffindor Tower," Creevey said, his eyes wide. "There were great gashes in the painting she stayed in as if he'd slashed it apart with a knife! And some chunks of it on the floor. It was a mess! I'll show you a photo of it once I've got it developed."

"Thank you, Creevey," Harry said. If Sirius Black was after Snape, why hadn't he attacked the Thin Lady in the Slytherin Dungeons? What did the madman want that was in Gryffindor Tower?

"I told you before, Harry! The name's Colin!" He chirped.

Grinning in amusement, Harry shook his head some.

"Hey, you're pretty," Creevey said to Sally-Anne, fingering his camera. "Could I take your photo?"

Harry had never seen Sally-Anne so red before. He clamped his hand over his mouth before he started laughing.

At her hesitant nod, the Gryffindor snapped her picture. "And you aren't bad-looking either," he announced to Theodore.

"Be my guest," Theodore said, taking a gallant pose and smiling in a relaxed manner. Soon the short Creevey was done, fearlessly pushing his way out of the cluster of Slytherins. "I like him," Theodore told Harry. "Can we keep him?"

Before Harry could answer, Prefect Simone Dedworth yelled over their heads. "Everyone into their sleeping bags!" She'd made prefect last year and was heads taller than anyone else.

"Lights out in ten minutes!" Prefect Ivan Renshaw, a fifth year, called out.

"Harry, the prefects have laid us out by year. I can show you where we're to be," Pansy said, Tracey and Daphne flanking her.

Harry nodded. Right away he noticed that his house had chosen the only windowless area of the Great Hall, a deep corner next to a side door which the headmaster used to enter and exit the Great Hall. The seventh, sixth, and fifth years were part of the outer circle, followed by fourth years, second years, and first years. Third years, for whatever reason had been placed in the innermost circle along the wall, and Harry's sleeping bag had its head pointed towards the corner, horizontal to the wall. Draco was already sitting on the sleeping bag beside him and Theodore took the empty one at Harry's feet.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Draco asked him after Harry had taken off his boots.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he could be," Harry said as he crawled into his sleeping bag, fully clothed.

"But do you think he is?"

Harry shrugged. "I think when he failed to get what he wanted, he fled."

"How do you think he got in?" Tracey whispered over Crabbe's thickset shoulders.

"Apparation?" Harry suggested.

"You can't do that in Hogwarts, unless there's a Runic Pathway keyed to the wards or you're the headmaster," Theodore said.

"But Dobby did," Harry said.

"Elf Magic is different from our magic," Draco said matter-of-factly. Harry pulled up the sleeping bag to cover his chilled arms. Harry had never thought of that before, there being different kinds of magic. He'd always assumed that the magic used by Magical Creatures was the very same he used.

"Black could have Polyjuiced himself," Daphne offered.

"The dementors would have seen straight through that," Theodore said. "They're surrounding Hogwarts grounds. Black couldn't have snuck in either; Filch knows all the secret passages, he would've told the headmaster to make sure that they'd be covered with heavy Alerting Spells."

Stumped, Harry and his year-mates fell silent in thought.

"The lights will be going out in a few minutes. If you need to use the toilet, go stand by Prefect Dedworth or Wynch," Prefect Farley informed them.

Draco and a few others got up to use the loo, but Harry remained where he was. Harry turned over on his right side, feeling the chill from the stone wall in front of him. Head Boy Weasley on the other side of the hall was screaming at the top of his lungs about not talking; Harry thought that was a ridiculous proposition without drugging them all with Sleeping Draught.

Then the candles went out all at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about, and the enchanted ceiling, which was scattered with a breathtaking amount of stars. That and the whispering that filled the Great Hall, Harry felt as though he were camping outdoors. He was equally sure that he would not be able to sleep in a room crowded with nearly three hundred students.

When Harry's year-mates returned and bid him good night, Harry feigned sleep. He noticed that a different professor would reappear regularly to check in with the Head Boy or Head Girl.

Very early in the morning, or deep into the night, when everyone was breathing deeply, Harry sat up, leaned against the wall, and admired the full moon that had risen in the ceiling and streamed in through the tall windows, cast upon the Ravenclaws. It was about this time that the doors parted slightly and Professor Dumbledore strolled in. He chatted with any prefect who were awake as he made his way towards inner sanctum of the Hall. Harry quickly lay down and pretended to sleep as the headmaster drew nearer.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Head Girl Penelope Clearwater asked in a soft whisper.

"No. All well here?"

"Everything's under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving everyone now that they've gone to sleep."

Harry heard the door closest to them creak open and more footsteps: Snape's footsteps.

"Headmaster?" Harry kept quite still, listening hard. "The dungeons have been checked and secured. The others have finished their search as well. No sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle."

"I didn't really expect Black to linger." It sounded to Harry that Dumbledore truly trusted Snape. Harry wasn't sure why such a powerful wizard could trust Snape so deeply when the world was just a chess game to him.

"Remarkable feat, don't you think?" Snape asked as they drew closer to the knot of sleeping Slytherins. "To enter Hogwarts castle on one's own, completely undetected…?"

"Quite remarkable," the headmaster agreed.

"Have you any theory as to how he managed that?"

"Many. Each as unlikely as the next," Professor Dumbledore said.

So, the adults hadn't figured out that Black was an Animagus. Harry opened his eyes a fraction and saw that the two wizards and a young witch were standing in the moonlight. The headmaster was looking towards Harry from where he stood at the edge of the seventh-year Slytherins. Head Girl Clearwater's face was blank, but attentive.

Snape though looked positively rigid with anger. "You may recall, Headmaster, prior to the start of term I expressed concerns about the appointment of—"

"Not a single professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black enter it," Professor Dumbledore said with tone that made it clear that the subject was closed. "I'm convinced that the school is safe. I will inform the dementors that our search has not turned up Black."

Harry watched the headmaster turn and walk out of the hall. Snape stood in the faint silvery light with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he, too, turned and left.

Draco shifted beside him, and Harry glanced sideways. Harry saw reflected light in the barely open eyes. Draco smiled. Without a smile back, Harry rolled onto his less tender side and stared at the dark wall. What was that about? He wondered.


	11. The Patronus Lesson

_**Author's Notes:** __The Slytherins are highly protective of Harry. He still has difficulty wrapping his head around his importance._

* * *

For the next few days, the school talked of nothing but Sirius Black. The theories had gotten wilder and wilder, but thankfully Neville had kept his mouth shut or else there'd be a theory about Black being an Animagus too. Maybe the Gryffindor had learned his lesson after blabbing about Harry fainting on the train.

After much thought, Harry decided that the sleeping arrangements in the Great Hall made sense if he was the one that needed to be in the most defensible position in the deepest pocket of students. Harry's observations of Snape around Professor Lupin led to the deduction that the Death Eater had a complicated relationship with the DADA professor; at times, Snape didn't seem to trust Lupin to protect Harry and yet Snape had shoved Harry into the same compartment with Professor Lupin on the train ride to school. With the essay on werewolves, Harry's suspicions motivated him to pull out a Lunar calendar. He discovered that the times of Snape's distrust happened around the time of the Full Moon. The matter of why Snape thought that Professor Lupin was helping Sirius Black into the school was another story—there were only two appointments that the headmaster had made that year, and Snape wasn't showing the same level of distrust towards the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Finally, why the headmaster and the Head of Slytherin would even hold that conversation near the Slytherins seemed fishy to Harry. Were they trying to pass information along? If they were, it seemed like a smart way to go about it.

Ever since Black's break-in, teachers found excuses to walk with Harry, and Harry was never left alone by his Slytherin year-mates. By Tuesday, Harry had managed to get the two rolls of parchment about werewolves done, but when he turned them in he was told to sit down. Harry wondered if he might be in trouble for skipping detention November First.

"Potter, I have voiced my concern to Flint and Montague about your position as Seeker. With Black on the loose—"

"Sir, we have our first match Saturday and I'm the best Seeker you've got." Harry's fists clenched and unclenched. "Do you want to break our winning streak?"

Snape considered him. "If anything untoward happens during this match, you will be benched for the rest of the season. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"To reduce your exposure to attack, you will abstain from Quidditch practice this week."

"What?!"

"It wouldn't do to have our… best… Seeker catch a cold, hm?" Snape's eyes had no friendliness to them.

"Madam Hooch could watch me!"

"Rolanda has better things to do with her time than to look after you in the freezing rain. Instead, you will serve out the three detentions you owe me this week."

Harry let out a noise of disgust and stood. "Yes, sir." He walked out without waiting to be dismissed. He was too angry.

At least, he'd be able to play in the first match of the season.

* * *

The day before the match, the stormy winds reached a howling point outside and the rain fell so thick it looked perpetually blurry grey outside the windows. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. Harry still had seen nothing of the Lionsnakes; however, he slipped on his Bewitched Watch to confirm what he was already certain about.

With Theodore and the others around him, Harry walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They took their seats and pulled out their completed homework.

The door opened and then slammed shut behind them. Harry rose from his chair, hopeful.

Black robes billowing around him, Snape swung his wand at the windows as he passed each one; The pairs of shutters slammed shut. At the front of the room, he yanked a chain and faced them as the screen rolled down behind him. The Potions Master stared at Harry, waiting. After about fifteen seconds, the professor let out an annoyed scoff, "Potter, sit down."

Harry didn't move. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

"That's not really your concern," Snape said each word slowly as if turning a spit of meat over a fire. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

But Harry stayed where he was.

A smile twisted on the Potions Master's face, and his black eyes glittered. "Turn to page three hundred fifteen," he said, enunciating each word.

Theodore grabbed Harry's robe sleeve. "Sit!" His friend hissed.

"Nothing life-threatening is currently causing your professor's absence," Snape said, though it was obvious that he wished it were. "Suffice it to say he finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time… Detention, Potter. If I have to ask you to follow directions again, you will be assigned Independent Potions Study for the next month."

Harry allowed Theodore to tug him down to his seat.

Snape looked around the class. "Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"Boggarts, red caps, kappas, and grindylows," Harry shot off in rapid succession.

"I did not ask for information, Potter," Snape said coldly. "I would expect first years to be able to deal with red caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss…"

Harry blanched, having finally flipped his page to the three hundred fifteen. Snape was baiting him.

The greasy-haired bastard tapped the projector. "—dementors."

Everyone sat in motionless silence as the image of a cloaked being with scabby hands was projected on the screen.

"Besides Nott, who can tell me what nourishes a dementor?"

Happiness, Harry's brain supplied.

"Memories that contain warm feelings, such as hope, joy, love, will to live, and pleasure," Sally-Anne supplied.

"Very good, ten points to Slytherin." Snape paced around the room; the projector's slide changed to a dementor clutching a man's face. "Potter, what action does this illustration show a dementor performing?"

Harry muttered, "A Dementor's Kiss."

"Speak up, Potter. We can't hear you," Snape said.

"A Dementor's Kiss. The illustration shows a dementor about to suck the soul out of a person," Harry said more strongly.

"Ten points to Slytherin. And how does one protect oneself against a dementor?" Snape looked at the others, the ones who hadn't been in the compartment with Harry when he'd been attacked.

"A Patronus Charm," Draco drawled.

"Ten points to Slytherin. Today, we will practice summoning a Patronus," Snape said, pacing to the back of the classroom. "Nott, explain to your classmates what that is, why it works, and how to summon it."

"A Patronus is a kind of positive force, a sort of anti-dementor being that acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The dementor feeds upon it instead of you." Theodore took a breath. "There's no wand movement you need to memorize. You hold your wand straight out and say, Expecto Patronum. The catch is that the Patronus Charm will only work if you singularly focus on the happiest memory you have, which is a mite difficult to do with a dementor bearing down on you."

"Thirty points to Slytherin. Everyone is to move to the back of the room." Once they had done as he asked, with a swish of Snape's wand, the desks slid across the floor to the sides of the room. "Stand in a row where I may see you. Think of your chosen memory and say the incantation."

Wand in hand, Harry stood there. He flipped through the memories he had, but none of them seemed very happy… and the happiness he'd felt living with Snape was tainted with resentment and bitter anger.

On either side of him, Bulstrode and Theodore were casting. Theodore's wand let out a substantial burst of white light in the shape of a fountain, where Bulstrode's wand had the barest trace of a silvery wisp.

"Concentrate!" Snape said, "Until that memory is all that you know."

Harry closed his eyes and thought of the first time he flew his broom, having nothing better to use. He imagined the feel of the wind through his hair, the exhilaration of being in complete control of himself, the joy singing through him as he pushed higher and higher into the air. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried out. Barely anything came out.

"Try a different memory," Theodore suggested, "A stronger one."

Shoving down his anxiety when Bulstrode's wisps turned into a bright, white shield, Harry tried to think of something else. Harry decided to try the time he'd heard that he would no longer be returning to the Dursleys, ever again. His happiness of being rid of them, glee and excitement at not being bullied by the people who were in charge of him, his deep hope that someone would come to love him as a son… "Expecto Patronum!" Harry knew the moment the incantation left his lips that that memory wouldn't work. It was tarnished by Snape. Nothing flew out of his wand.

Harry looked down at his wand, feeling let down. At the sense of movement around him, his eyes traveled upward; his year-mates were standing around him with sad, pitying looks. "You all managed something right?"

"Naturally," Draco said with his usual arrogant tone, though his expression looked thoughtful.

"Ten points to each person who successfully summoned a proto-Patronus." Daphne and Crabbe stepped aside to let Snape into their circle. "Potter, you cannot possibly be so pathetic as to be incapable of producing the ectoplasm of a Patronus."

Loathing filled Harry at the sight of the adult. It was his fault he couldn't. "I guess I am. I don't have any happy memories."

"That's not quite right, Harry," Theodore murmured beside him, "You summoned a little of something the first time. What were you thinking about?"

Having ten pairs of eyes solely on a person can make them unnerved, and Harry jealously wanted to keep the memory his. He swallowed his greed, surprised by how difficult it was to share it with them. "The first time I rode a broom."

"What about the first time you caught a Snitch?" Sally-Anne's voice cut through the silence.

"Caught it? He nearly swallowed it!" Theodore laughed. "You remember the Potter Ploy?"

Harry's year-mates chuckled in memory. Harry couldn't seem to help but grin wanly.

"Or the time you beat out Malfoy as main Seeker?" Goyle suggested gruffly.

"And him on a better broom," Crabbe added with a snigger.

"I still think he'd make a decent Broom Dancer," Draco said offhandedly, inspecting his nails, "But no one listens to me."

Harry huffed at the thought of being a Broom Dancer.

"And tomorrow you'll be playing!" Daphne exclaimed, cheerfully. "Aren't you excited about that?"

"The weather's trodding awful," the usually silent Bulstrode murmured, "You'd have to be crazy to think it was fun to be on a broom in it."

Harry was warmed by their words. He didn't feel so… alone and cold.

"Why don't you try again, Harry?" Pansy said. "Close your eyes and imagine the wind slapping through your hair and robes…"

"The thundering of your heart as you search out the Snitch," Tracey added.

"The smell of the fresh air and woods beyond the pitch," Theodore said.

"The way the broom handles, obeying your every movement, precisely as you wanted." Draco's voice was reverent.

Harry lifted his wand imagining all his friends around him, imagining their faces every time he pushed his Nimbus Two Thousand to its limits, imagining their jubilant cheers when he finally caught the Snitch after being chased by a Rogue Bludger last year. And then, Harry remembered best of all, how they protected him when Lockhart came to 'help' him. "Expecto… Patronum!" In a burst of light, something more than a shield of light formed. Cloven-hoofed with a head full of antlers, the transparent animal kicked its head back, pawing the ground. It looked around and then pranced to the other side of the room in one bound.

The moment Harry stopped concentrating on the spell to think about what he was looking at was when the apparition vanished, dissolving into nothing.

Cheers exploded from his year-mates. "You did it!"

All of them congratulated him.

"Can you believe it? A distinct Patronus on your third try!" Theodore said, beaming ear to ear.

"Ten points to Slytherin, for the demonstration of an incorporeal Patronus," Snape's voice was neutral, like he was extremely bored. "I wonder if it will retain its shape against a boggart." He cast a Canceling Spell, and the illusion over the wardrobe against the wall fell away. There was a bang from it, but nobody jumped. The wardrobe must have been Silenced and Disillusioned before Snape canceled the spells.

"Sir, you can't expect a third year to—"

"Mr. Nott, I am teaching this lesson, not you."

"As you say, sir." Theodore closed his mouth, sending a worried look to Harry.

"Step forward, Potter."

Harry did as he was told, wand at the ready.

"Concentrating on your… happy… memory?" Snape said every word like a knife chopping on a block.

Trying to hold the happiness and not the anger he got whenever he saw or heard the greasy-haired bastard, Harry forced his thoughts back to his friends.

The wardrobe knob turned, and the door opened. Instantly the Bewitched Watch went cold against Harry's arm. A dementor slowly turned its hooded head at him, one glistening scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps in the classroom flickered and went out. Instead of screaming towards him like it had last time, it started to sweep silently towards Harry, drawing in a deep rattling breath. Cold was piercing through the warmth in Harry's chest—

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted, but the light stuttered out the end of his wand and went out.

Someone was screaming, screaming inside of his head… a woman, his mother…

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl… Stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

Numbness was filling Harry, sapping his strength… He needed to help her… She was going to die… She was going to be murdered…

"Not Harry! Please… have mercy! Have mercy!"

A shrill voice was laughing, and the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

* * *

When Harry woke up, it didn't seem much later in the day. It was a bit of a shock that Tom Riddle hadn't lied about Harry's mother; she had pleaded with Voldemort and he'd told her to stand aside… It hadn't been a nightmare; it was a memory that had been haunting him.

Harry picked up his glasses and put them on. He saw Sally-Anne sitting next to him. They were in the infirmary. She smiled at him. "Hey, Harry. It's almost lunch time. Are you hungry?"

"That wasn't a boggart."

Sally-Anne's expression had a strange twist to it. "After you passed out, Professor Snape used the Ludicrous Charm on it and stuffed it back into the wardrobe. It was definitely a boggart."

Harry felt the warm blush of humiliation. Everyone said the dementors were horrible, but Harry hadn't heard of anyone else collapsing whenever they were near, traumatized or not. His fingers and toes were ice despite the layers of blankets on top of him.

"Don't fret if you need to rest more; Professor Sprout already received permission to borrow you during one of the detentions Snape assigned you so you can make up your work," she told him, "Here's some chocolate."

Harry carefully took the proffered piece and gnawed on it, until he'd eaten most of it. Some of the warmth returned. Still, he didn't feel very well.

"Did you hear the screaming again, like you did on the train?" Sally-Anne asked carefully.

Nodding, Harry bit off half of what was left. "My mother… begging Voldemort to spare my life. Begging him to kill her in my stead."

Her face contorted into anguish. "Oh… Harry…"

"I don't know what she expected, him being an evil wizard murdering people left and right," Harry continued nonchalantly, "She did that and then died and left me with my horrible aunt and her horrible husband and their bullying son..." Inside he was numb and hollow, like there was no happiness in the world, or if there was Harry was not privy to it.

"Desperation and love drive people into senseless or futile action. Your mother loved you. She didn't abandon you; in her way, she was trying to protect you."

"Voldemort murdered her… right in front of me." Harry's voice was soft. The cold ache was creeping back inside of him, threatening to stay if he didn't do something soon. Harry finished the bar of chocolate with one last bite.

Sally-Anne leaned forward and hugged him, pressing her face against his and causing the Glaxxes to go crooked. "Don't let your heart harden. You're strong, Harry. I know it's tough, but you need to let yourself feel."

Taking in a deep shuddering breath, Harry finally felt warmth flow into him. "I wish… that I didn't want to hear my mother's voice so badly. It's horrid… hearing her scream," his voice croaked out. "I want to know how she sounded when she was just herself. Was it kind? Gentle? Teasing? And… I don't even know what my father's voice was like…" Unbidden, tears came into Harry's eyes. Snape had been his legal guardian in name only; anything else had been a lie. "I feel alone."

"I'm right here." Sally-Anne held him around his shoulders tightly, and it helped some. The cold was receding.

Over her shoulder, Harry saw a prefect. The tall, dark-haired Mervyn Wynch gazed calmly back. Harry hurriedly wiped his eyes and pulled away from Sally-Anne. She let him, her warm brown eyes gentle behind her glasses.

"You also have the rest of your Slytherin family," the prefect said quietly. "We won't abandon you, and we certainly don't hate you."

Wary, Harry looked away from the prefect he hardly knew and thought of his cupboard. He'd never before voiced any of those fears. It was extremely unnerving.

"Prefect Wynch is right. We adore you."

Wynch agreed. "We Slytherins aren't like the romantic Hufflepuffs, or the possessive Gryffindors, or the theatrical Ravenclaws… We neither need flowery or selfish pronouncements nor scorecards to put our veneration on display."

"I know we don't show it, well the third years and up don't… and I know the way we relate to one another seems harsh and uncaring." Sally-Anne chuckled. "Well, the younger ones idolize you, of course… But for the most part we love one another without needing words."

"How would you know then whether someone loved you?" Harry was glad to be warm again and feeling utterly drained.

Sally-Anne squeezed her hand over the top of his. "Like this." She raised her free hand to her chest, closing her eyes. "You listen to your heart, first. And eventually, you'll be able to recognize its pleas. If you get versed enough at hearing your own, you'll start to hear others' hearts. Then you'll know when someone loves you."

"I think… I might try it later. Not now." Harry's voice was rough with fatigue.

"Drink this, then," Prefect Wynch said, handing a vial to Sally-Anne who uncorked it for Harry and offered it to him. "Madam Pomfrey said that if you expect to play tomorrow it is of utmost importance that you get a full night's rest."

Harry took the uncorked vial and downed it.

"Sleep well, Harry," Sally-Anne said gently.

The moment his eyes closed, he'd fallen asleep.

* * *

Harry woke up extremely early the next morning, so early that it was still dark. Or was it because there was a storm raging outside with the wind roaring and the rain pounding? Harry sat up carefully, always mindful of his back. He wondered if the muscles and sinew would pull for the rest of his life.

Fumbling for his Glaxxes, Harry looked around once he'd put them on.

"Good morning," Prefect Gilbert said, his back to Harry and his head illuminated by the dim oil-lamp on the table.

Ravenous, Harry rolled out of bed. He went to check his working Muggle watch and discovered that it had stopped working. He pulled out his wand and cast a Repair charm on it; the second hand still didn't move. Harry wondered if the battery needed to be changed. "What time is it?"

Gilbert whispered, "Tempus." A colorful display of light floated in the air revealing that it was four minutes past four in the morning.

Harry walked over to the window; a flash of lightning lit the blurry grounds for a moment. A loud crack and rumble of thunder clapped over, vibrating the window pane. He knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but breakfast won't be served for another four hours," Harry said to the window, which steamed up from his warm breath.

"We can go down to the kitchens and get something, if you want."

"Isn't it too early to be wandering about in the corridors?"

Gilbert laughed lightly, turning. There was a shadow of a beard on his tanned face. "Prefect privileges, Harry. Nobody tells me when my curfew is or where I should be at any given time."

"Then, yes. I'd like some porridge and toast."

"Come on, then." Gilbert waved his wand at his book and it shut with a thump. In three years, Gilbert had remained stubbornly short only standing as tall as Harry's midsection. His shoulders had broadened out even more and his hands had gotten meatier. They looked to be about the right size to catch a Bludger with a single hand.

Gilbert kept the wand with the active Lighting spell lowered, so as not to disturb the snoring paintings on either side of them. They made their way through Hogwarts to the opposite side nearest to the greenhouses. Turning down a dead-end corridor where a pile of barrels lay, Gilbert reached a hand to the pear in the very large painting above him and then lightly scritched it. The pear let out a light giggle and an old, steel-banded door suddenly appeared next to the painting. Squeezing the handle, the prefect waited for the latching mechanism to give before opening the door into the room with a hard shove. Behind him, Harry stepped inside the warm, massive room, looking around.

The kitchen was enormous and very warm and smelled absolutely splendid. Everywhere he looked were fireplaces where house-elves wearing non-clothing items worked; they stirred soups, baked puddings, or turned spits of meat. From the ceiling hung large cauldrons, frying skillets, and flat griddles and a myriad of dried root vegetables and herbs. The red brick walls were decorated with innumerable austere shelves of painstakingly glazed ceramic plates.

The plates suddenly reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia's collection back on Privet Drive, except that the people in these plates were partially animated and were large-headed, floppy-eared, and big-eyed. They were house-elves and the scenes on them seemed to be commemorating special events like anniversaries, weddings, and funerals. He walked along the wall and saw a column of plates with wizards and witches on them, blinking at them curiously. Each one had a name, a title, and a date.

Harry stopped short when he saw a plate with his own green eyes unblinkingly behind black-framed, round glasses staring out. When his plate portrait noticed him, it gave a tentative smile with surprisingly straight teeth. Beneath his unsettling portrait was written, Harry James Potter. And beneath that was a scrolling text that read, Boy-Who-Twice-Defeated-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-And-Lived. And beneath that was October 31st, 1981 and June 10th, 1992. Well, Harry now understood why Dobby had known who he was and what he'd done when he was just a toddler and as a first year…

"Come. Sit, Harry. The Hogwarts Elves will serve us shortly." Gilbert had taken a place on a stubby flat bench at a long rough-hewn oak table. Harry suddenly noticed there were four of them in exactly the same layout that they occupied in the Great Hall. The prefect re-opened his book and began to read once more.

The moment Harry sat down a house-elf squeaked, "Porridge and toast, Master Potter?"—startling Harry so soundly that he almost fell off the bench. Knuckles white as he grasped the edge of the table, Harry caught his breath. "Er. Yes, and some fried eggs. And pumpkin juice."

The house-elf nodded and disappeared with a crack.

"Okay, there, Harry?"

"Could've warned me," Harry muttered.

"I did," Gilbert said, turning a page.

Harry sighed. "I didn't realize there were house-elves cooking our food..."

"Did you think the food transfigured itself?" Gilbert said, laughingly.

Shooting a dark look at the prefect, Harry shrugged.

"That was a joke, Harry. You can't transfigure food. It's one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

"Oh. When was Professor McGonagall going to tell us that?" When Harry looked down again, there was a gold goblet, plate, and silverware.

"Next year or fifth year. Depends on the level of ability in your year. Eat up; you look a little like death warmed over."

By the time Harry had finished, he'd had five helpings.

"Finally finished?" Gilbert teased.

Harry snorted, stood up, and headed to the exit, which looked like a normal door from the inside. With that same amused expression, Gilbert closed his book and followed.

Opening the door, Harry stepped out into the chilly corridor. Another clap of thunder boomed down the empty passageway. Knowing precisely where to go, Harry led them back to the infirmary, which had every sconce lit with cheery fire. Outside, Madam Pomfrey stood with her hands propped on her hips.

"Prefect Tellwyenth! I would have expected this from a first year, not from you!"

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey. Harry was hungry, and I decided he might like to stretch his legs for a bit," Gilbert said politely. He withstood Madam Pomfrey's glare with a calmly contrite expression.

"Alright. Tell the other ones that if they intend to take Harry out for a walk that they require express permission from me," the Healer said.

"As you wish, Madam Pomfrey," Gilbert responded.

Harry's eyebrows rose, half-amused and half-appalled. They acted as if he were a family pet who needed regular walks.

Madam Pomfrey affixed her stern look upon Harry. "May I check your scar, dear? It won't take long, and if I deem you're alright then you can head along to your dormitory."

Harry nodded, and the Healer's cool hands touched his face, pushing the fringe back. She peered into his eyes, and then his ears. Her hands expertly checked his pulse at his neck and then her fingers lightly massaged the glands near his throat. "I have forbid Professor Snape from unleashing a boggart on you again. I can't imagine what he was thinking, expecting a third year to summon a fully corporeal Patronus when it's well advanced beyond O.W.L. level," she murmured.

"What does O.W.L. stand for?" Harry asked curiously, as she continued to feel down his left arm with a frown on her face.

"Ordinary Wizarding Level. You only know it as an exam for fifth years, right?" Gilbert said, reading his thick book while he stood. "It determines which Advanced classes you can get into your sixth year."

Madam Pomfrey had moved behind him now and was prodding Harry's left shoulder blade. When she hit a particularly tender spot, Harry winced, "Ow!"

She let out a low sigh. "Nasty sharp talons, indeed," she muttered to herself. "You need kinesiological treatment." With a stern look Madam Pomfrey met Harry's eyes. "Why haven't you told anyone it still hurt?"

Harry massaged his shoulder blade carefully. "I thought it was as healed up as it was going to be."

"You didn't want anyone to fuss, you mean," Gilbert said, without lifting his head from the book, and missed the scowl Harry directed at him.

Madam Pomfrey tsked, shaking her head. "What are we going to do with you, Harry?" She said sadly. "There's no need for you to be in pain when your magic's still young and vibrant."

Hearing the storm rage on behind him, Harry shrugged his right shoulder lightly.

"Then let's make a deal. That is what Slytherins understand best, isn't it?" Harry nodded. "I'll notify Severus after the game about your shoulder, if and only if you promise not to hide any injuries or pain from me ever again."

Harry frowned.

"You see, if Severus were aware of your lingering injury, he would not let you play this morning, and I know how much you love Quidditch," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. "Normally, I would not endorse this sort of thing, but since you've been flying a broom without any of us being wiser of your difficulties I believe a single Quidditch match shouldn't make a difference."

"Okay, I'll tell you," Harry said softly.

"Good. Then I will officially discharge you." She clapped her hands together. "Do be careful on the pitch today."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey." He left with Gilbert to the dungeons.


	12. Dementors on the Pitch

_**Author's Notes: **Hello friends. Yes, the Slytherins have noticed Harry's need to feel needed/loved. It's kind of sweet in a way.  
_

* * *

Padded up and wearing his emerald Quidditch robes, Harry was bowed against the ferocious wind as he and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team slogged through the blowing rain and mud on the Quidditch pitch. Harry's Glaxxes repelled the water, and nothing seeped in along the sides. However, Harry had to remember not to breathe in a mouthful of rainwater.

If the crowd was cheering, Harry couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. The Gryffindors staggered sideways opposite of them, wearing scarlet robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands.

Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, 'Mount your brooms.'

He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand, glad that the green grip that Goyle had given him was dry and easy to grasp. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant—and they were off!

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus swerved slightly with the wind. He held it steady, already feeling the burn in the scar on his back as he turned, peering through the grey rain. The weight of his wet robes was actually helping him stay course, though he would have liked to do without the feeling of ice-cold rain. Dodging a Bludger, he flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and green shapes with no idea what was happening with the rest of the game. Even the announcer's commentary was lost to the wind, and the crowd beneath Harry was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and umbrellas. Another Bludger came at him, and he swerved to miss it. A tumbling black and broken umbrella darted past him, caught by the wind.

The sky was getting darker as though night had decided to come early. Harry very nearly collided with another player, wearing water-logged red robes. Still Harry scanned the sky in vain for something that glinted, something that moved in a way he was accustomed to noticing.

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle. Harry floated down towards Flint.

"Wood's called a time-out," the Team Captain hollered over the storm. "Everyone's holding up?"

Harry wondered why none of them looked as uncomfortable as him despite their hair being plastered with rain.

Montague looked about and then set his eyes on Harry. "Potter! Why didn't you cast a Repellant Charm on your robes?" He reached forward grasping Harry's arm. "You're as cold as ice! Merlin, you're thick-headed, aren't you." Pulling out his wand, Montague cast a Drying Charm and then, "_Impervius!"_ Suddenly the rain wasn't soaking into Harry's damp robes any longer.

"Thanks," Harry said sheepishly, feeling loads better.

"Scarhead, catch that Snitch so we can get out of _this_," Bletchley the Keeper said, circling his hand at the sky above them.

Harry cracked a grin.

At the sound of another whistle, the Slytherins mounted their brooms and sped off to their positions. Montague's spell had done the trick. Harry was still cold where the water touched his skin, but his robes weren't chilling him to the bone. Full of fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, and narrowly avoided a collision with Ginny Weasley. Harry nearly slammed into the Bludger that had been following her above the pitch. He leaned and dove to avoid the Bludger.

There was a clap of thunder and forked lightning in the clouds above Harry. This was getting more and more dangerous. He needed to get the Snitch quickly.

"SCARHEAD!" Montague roared above the wind. "BEHIND YOU!"

Harry turned. Ginny was pelting up the field, a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain filled air between them, moving upwards towards the angry black clouds. With a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broomhandle and zoomed towards the Snitch.

"Come on!" Harry growled at his Nimbus as the rain whipped his face. "Faster!"

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the field and stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to… roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf—what was going on?

Then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him and into him just as he became aware of something moving in the clouds below him. Harry took his eyes off the Snitch and Ginny and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors were floating beneath him, their hidden faces turned up towards him.

Forget the Snitch! His instinct screamed, and for once Harry did, reaching for the wand holster strapped to his leg. He yanked his wand out, forcing the cold away, forcing himself to remember the happiness he'd found among the Slytherins, among his new family.

It was as though freezing water were rising inside his chest, cutting at his insides. Harry fought it as the water on his skin iced. "_Expecto Patronum!" _He screamed.

White fog obscured his senses, and the dementors' frenzied feeding lessened. Harry saw an opening among the black ragged capes and dove through, the cold worsening as he formidably held out his wand.

But, he couldn't feel his fingers or his legs or his arms anymore. Numbness had filled him inside and out and Harry had the queerest sensation of flying. Big, blurred shapes were moving around him… then came a new voice, a man's voice shouting with panic—

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"_

There was a sound of someone stumbling from the room—a door exploding into pieces—a cackle of high-pitched laughter and a flash of green light…

* * *

"He must've fallen over a hundred feet," Theodore was saying. "Madam Pomfrey said he didn't have any broken bones. The pads took the worst of it, Daphne."

"They should've for as much as I paid for them."

"I can't believe those ghastly things _attacked_ _him_. When my father hears of this—"

"Draco," Harry groaned, finding the light in the room unbearable. "Do you know I could get rich if I got a Sickle every time you threatened to tell your father about something?" There was a round of warm chuckling at that, and he smiled weakly. Every inch of him was aching as though he'd been caught by Dudley's gang. Harry stopped shifting, finding it hurt less when he was still.

"I guess you can't be too bad off if you're making jokes," Draco said airily. "You gave us a right good scare falling off your broom in a swarm of dementors."

"Who won the match?"

"Slytherin, of course. As soon as I saw you fall, I took off. The Weasley girl looked frightfully distraught from the dementor attack and completely missed the Snitch darting about her head."

An uncomfortable Harry shifted again. "I guess I'm benched for the season?"

"I would hope my godfather had the sense to," Draco said.

"What happened with the dementors? Why'd they suddenly come on the field?"

"Wouldn't you rather rest, Harry?" Sally-Anne asked.

"I need to know."

There was a pause.

"No one knows why they came onto the field," Daphne said.

"Dumbledore was furious about it," Theodore answered, "He sent the dementors off right away with a corporeal Patronus in the shape of a phoenix. We heard him bellowing at them. I'm surprised that he didn't spew obscenities."

"He conjured up a stretcher and floated you onto it. And then escorted you personally into Hogwarts." Pansy's nasal voice was unmistakable.

"Did someone get my broom?" When there was no immediate answer, Harry cracked open an eye and saw the blurry shapes turning towards one another.

"Well…" Tracey said with a bit of anxiety, "It blew away... right into the Whomping Willow."

Harry closed his eyes. His mind did not want to put together the implication as his stomach lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood in the middle of the Hogwarts lawn, and it had pounded the daylights out of Weasley's family car last year. His broom wouldn't have a chance. He reopened his eyes. "And?"

"Professor Flitwick brought… what was left of it while you were still out," she said. She lifted the lumpy bag. It was much too small for the length of a broomstick.

Harry's breath hitched; it felt as if someone had hit him in the gut. "What do I need a broom for anyway? It's not like I'll be Seeking for the rest of the season," he said to them.

The Slytherins standing around Harry knew without his saying anything that he was terribly heartbroken over the loss of his faithful Nimbus Two Thousand.

"Oh, quit being melodramatic," Draco said, "You can always get another broom."

"I don't want another one. I want the one you lot didn't save."

"See?" Pansy said with a sneer. "Even if I had brought him a new one, I told you he'd make an impossible demand."

"Maybe you should have told Tracey to hold off telling him?" Draco shot back. "Since you know how sentimental he gets."

"_You_ were the one who said it'd be better to get it over with. If only I'd known it'd be like kicking an abused Crup—!"

"It _was_ his first broom. What did you expect?"

"Would you two lay off?" Theodore said, likely noticing Harry's tight expression. When Draco huffed and Pansy hmph-ed, Theodore took a deep breath. "Alright then. What do you want to do with your broom, Harry?"

"Leave it, and you lot can go. I want to be alone. My head's splitting."

And so they left, Draco and Pansy squabbling on their way out. One of them had informed Madam Pomfrey of the pain, and Harry was given a potion.

As he stared at the blurry bag sitting on the chair beside his bed, he wondered if he was condemned to forever lead an eventful life.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the infirmary for the rest of the weekend. He didn't argue or complain about her decision, instead keeping her well-informed of his pain level, appetite, and mood. All throughout, he kept that bag of the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand on the chair next to the bed, not allowing the Healer to throw it away. He knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, yet Harry had felt like he'd lost one of his best friends.

Besides his Slytherin year-mates, Harry had a stream of visitors all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sent him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, had turned up with a Get-Well card that she'd made herself, which sang piercingly unless Harry kept it shut under a bowl of fruit that Gilbert had sent him. Colin Creevey, naturally, offered the photographs of the Fat Lady's ruined painting, stand-alones of Sally-Anne and Theodore, Harry free-falling with the dementors swarming after him, the headmaster summoning a Patronus, Harry being put on a stretcher by the headmaster, and Harry being brought into the front door of Hogwarts trailed by several teachers. Harry accepted them of course; he rather liked having a third party deliver objective evidence of an event. Even Professor Dumbledore paid him a short visit that didn't amount to anything of import.

Even though it chafed him to be around people all the time, Harry was grateful not to be left alone. When he was awake and the room became too quiet and still, he would hear his parents screaming. Without the Sleeping Draughts, Harry would doze fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and panicked yelling and petrified pleading and high-pitched laughter...

On Monday, it was with great relief for Harry to return to classes... Despite Finnigan's rather spirited imitations of Harry falling off his broom during Hagrid's class, Care for Magical Creatures and Arithmancy were relatively dull classes. It was that very evening that Harry was frantically completing the assigned homework for Charms, Herbology, and Transfiguration, while Theodore and Draco were playing a fierce game of Wizard Chess as Crabbe and Goyle watched on either side of the board.

"Can't either of you help me out?"

"You don't believe in copying," Draco said dismissively.

"At least show me the wand movements," Harry implored, careful not to sound too desperate.

"You're on your own, unless you plan on offering a favor," Theodore said to the chess board.

Harry suppressed the urge to sigh and continued reading and writing and flicking his wand about. He wondered why they wouldn't help him without needing a favor. He still had a History of Magic essay to complete, a star chart for Astronomy, another poem for Ancient Runes...

"Harry Potter, DETENTION. DETENTION. DETENTION!"

Throwing down his quill in disgust, Harry stormed out of the room. At the base of the stairs, he went across to Snape's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a voice said.

Harry opened the door.

"Good evening." Snape's black eyes stared holes at him as he steepled his fingers. "I assume you've arrived for your assigned detention?"

Standing in the doorway, Harry nodded. Anger at the professor began to simmer under his skin.

"Report to the infirmary with Nott. Madam Pomfrey is ready to start your first therapeutic session."

"Yes, sir." Harry turned to go.

"Potter, if I ever discover that you've refused to disclose your well-being to Poppy again, you will _never again_ mount a broom for the rest of your stay at Hogwarts."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a resigned note to his voice.

Snape dismissed him, and Harry went to the third-year boys' dormitory to fetch Theodore.

* * *

By Thursday evening, Harry was exhausted. He'd managed to get everything he needed done that week, including the therapeutic sessions, without getting any more detentions. His arm was no longer hurting, though Madam Pomfrey insisted that he keep his arm in a sling; this meant that Ron Weasley had been forced to prepare Harry's potions ingredients again. Draco's taunting during Potions finally caused Weasley to crack, and the redhead had flung a slippery crocodile heart at Draco, pelting him in the face. Gryffindor had lost fifty points for Ron's actions.

Done staring at the bag of shattered broom, Harry finally asked his year-mates what he should do with his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Draco said to sell it, which nearly made Harry chuck the bag at him. Draco backpedaled and suggested that it be remade into an Enchanted Object of some sort. Nobody else had any suggestions, so Harry decided to bury it.

Outside in the dying sunlight, among the shrubbery surrounding the Whomping Willow, Harry had stuck two pieces of wood together with a Stickfast Hex and pushed it into the ground. He picked up the spade that Draco had conjured for him.

"You're really going to do this." Tracey observed Harry steadily. "Even when others would kill to have Enchanted Objects made out of a broom as high quality as yours."

Harry lifted the spade and it hit the ground with a dull thunk. He tore it up and slammed it into the ground again.

"I could conjure a hole in the ground. It'd be faster," Pansy said after a few minutes of watching.

"And you wouldn't get blisters," Theodore added pragmatically.

Harry sighed, looking at his nine friends ringed about the bag containing the pieces of his broom. They didn't get it; would he be consigned to never being understood by his housemates? "You think I'm being stupid?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other as if daring the other to say a word about it.

Draco was the only one to burst into laughter. "Stupid, no. Overly sentimental, yes."

Shoving the spade in the ground, Harry left it. He left the bag where it was. _Goodbye, Nimbus Two Thousand. You were a good broom_. He closed his eyes and when he reopened them he turned to look at the others. "Somebody do something useful with what's left of my broom then."

Daphne picked the bag up. "I have an associate who excels at converting Broom Shards into useful objects. Would that be alright? I could insist that they give the majority away for charity...?"

"Yes, that sounds good." Grateful that he could stop being reminded of all the fun he had flying it when he saw the bag, Harry headed back to the castle. Behind him, he never saw the conjured flowers his year-mates laid by the grave marker.

* * *

Friday morning, the moment Harry stepped foot inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was the moment the Bewitched watch burned cold against his skin. Pausing behind his classmates, Harry yanked his sleeve back and saw the shadow of a dog… no, the snout was all wrong. It was a werewolf with sharp wicked teeth. Unbothered, Harry dropped his sleeve and entered the room.

Professor Lupin looked as though he was still recovering from a severe illness; since the full moon hadn't been that long ago this wasn't surprising. His old robes were hanging a little more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. Nevertheless, the professor smiled at the class as they took their seats.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson turned out to be a very enjoyable one. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke; it was rather frail and harmless-looking by the looks of it, which meant to Harry that it was very sinister indeed.

"Lures travelers into bogs," Professor Lupin told them as they took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? He hops ahead, people follow the light and get stuck in the bog, and then once his prey drowns he skins them with his toenails."

The hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise with what passed for toes.

When the bell tolled, the Slytherins gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry among them.

"Wait a moment, Harry," Professor Lupin called. "I'd like a word."

Harry didn't hesitate to double back around, though Theodore waved to let him know he was out in the corridor. Professor Lupin was covering the hinkypunk's box with a cloth.

"I heard about the match… I'm glad you're alright." The adult went to his desk and began to pile books into his briefcase. "And I'm sorry to hear about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No. Thanks to the Whomping Willow it fits into a bag about the size of a large pumpkin." Harry mimed its size to the professor with his hands. "I gave it away so someone could make use of it... You didn't need some Broom Shards, did you?"

"No, no. I don't." Professor Lupin sighed. "That tree was planted the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."

"Is that all you wanted to talk to me about, sir?" Harry said with politeness.

The professor smiled. "I can't get anything past you, can I? I heard you successfully cast a proto-Patronus at the dementors during your match and wanted to know where you learned that spell."

"Professor Snape taught our class about dementors and how to defend against them when you took... ill."

"Oh, really? He must've taught the same lesson to the Ravenclaws then," he said. His hands kept fiddling with the stacks of parchment, shuffling them around to no purpose.

"Did he teach the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs something else?"

"Yes, a chapter from the unit on nocturnal beasts. A little advanced for third years who can't tell the difference between a serpent and a Chinese Fireball, don't you think?"

Harry blinked. "Sir, I know you're a werewolf."

The briefcase slipped from his desk, and Professor Lupin's lightning-fast reflexes caught it before it hit the ground. "Oh… How… how long have you known?"

"Well, only a week or so. Professor Snape gave me a special assignment from the unit on nocturnal beasts. Page three hundred ninety-four: Werewolves. I had to write two rolls of parchment in three days; managed it in four."

"Was it the boggart or the lunar cycle that clued you in?"

Harry started. The orb hadn't been a crystal ball after all. It'd been a full moon! "Technically, the lunar cycle. But, I didn't think on it much until Professor Snape was acting strangely around you. What confirmed it, was this." Harry pulled up the sleeve of his robes and showed Professor Lupin the Bewitched watch. The professor stared at the face with intense interest. "I received this for my twelfth birthday last year, but I haven't been wearing since I stepped on the train since I was—"

"Bringing Lionsnakes to Hogwarts. I know, even though I was warned, I could smell them on you."

So, the professor hadn't been asleep at all? Or had he deduced that after the dementor on the train attacked Harry? "The headmaster knows about you then?" Harry asked.

"I would not have been able to enter Hogwarts had he not been informed. The other teachers are aware of my condition as well."

"And Snape—"

"That's Professor Snape," Professor Lupin admonished.

"Professor Snape brews you a Wolfsbane Potion every week then?"

"Yes, and I'm very grateful for it. It is not an inexpensive draught, and people talk when you purchase large quantities of it, unless you pay even more to keep their silence." Professor Lupin gazed at Harry with an unreadable expression.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It made sense why Professor Lupin never frittered his money away on new robes or possessions. "So, here's what Theo and I'll do for you. We'll cover for you in exchange for extra lessons in casting the Patronus charm."

The DADA professor startled. "You… that's what you want? Tutoring lessons?" Professor Lupin's expression melted into light amusement for some reason.

"Yes, Theo can only produce a proto-Patronus and I have trouble doing even that much." Seeing the werewolf's eyes flicker in hesitation, Harry added, "And I can't ask Professor Snape; Madam Pomfrey has forbid him from unleashing a boggart on me again." Not to mention, that Harry disliked standing in the greasy-haired git's presence.

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry… quite the contrary…"

"But if I find myself surrounded by dementors again, I need to be able to fight them." In addition, Harry might be able to find out why Snape thought Professor Lupin would help Sirius Black into the school. If the adult really did have contact with the madman, then perhaps Harry might be able to arrange a meeting without too much difficulty.

Professor Lupin looked into Harry's determined face, hesitated, and then said, "Well… all right. I'll do what I can. But we'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before holidays." With a wry grin, the professor's head seemed held higher than when Harry had first entered the classroom. "I chose a very inconvenient time to fall _ill_."

Harry laughed at that.


	13. Purveyors of Aids to Mischief-Makers

_**Author's Notes: **This chapter was tough to write only because there's so much going on.  
_

* * *

With the promise of anti-dementor lessons from Professor Lupin, Harry thought he might never have to hear his parents' deaths again other than in his nightmares.

Harry's mood took a definite upturn when he watched the match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that weekend. The weather had been clear and cheery, though cold, and the match had lasted a good hour and a half. He understood why the jostling crowd around him hadn't initially noticed when his broom had been jinxed his first year or when the Rogue Bludger had tailed him his second year. Instead of looking for the snitch, Harry watched the Chasers attempt to score Quaffles through the hoops and the Keepers defend the goalposts. It was an event unto itself. The Quaffle switched hands so frequently that it was at times difficult to keep up even with Harry's sharp eyes.

November creeped into December and Harry saw no hint of a dementor within the grounds of Hogwarts. The headmaster's past fury seemed to be keeping them at the gate. As the weeks dragged on Harry was sorely missing Quidditch practice. Instead, every morning he did his stretching and workout exercises to keep in shape. One morning, after he'd finished he saw that his roommates were all watching him with curious expressions. He wiped the sweat off his face with the towel he'd transfigured from an old shirt. "What?"

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a look, and Crabbe nudged Draco gently, who didn't look at either of the large teens behind him.

"May we join in your exercise regime?" Draco asked loftily, gesturing to encompass Theodore in his request.

"I don't see any harm in it," Harry said. He picked up his wand and cast a Refreshening charm before the smell of his sweat and body odor choked them out of the room.

And exercise they did. Every morning at six, Harry woke them up by lighting the sconces on the wall, which burned the same sickly color of the Killing Curse. It was something that Harry only noticed because the frequency of his nightmares and flashbacks had considerably increased because of the dementor attacks.

The first time the other boys blearily got out of bed, Draco complained about the early hour.

Harry huffed. "Then go back to bed, so the rest of us can out-run you when something lethal starts chasing us."

Theodore laughed at Harry's joke, while Crabbe and Goyle tried to hide their helpless chuckles.

Red-faced, Draco stood up straight. "I hardly think that's accurate since _you'd_ be the one staying behind while the rest of us with good sense fled."

"Maybe I wouldn't feel I had the need to if I knew everyone was safe," Harry countered.

After Draco had grumbled about Muggle-raised wizards, he seemed very focused on completing as many sets as he could.

As for the green fire, Draco didn't bat an eye at Harry's request to change them. Now they burned a normal cheery orange. The tension Harry had been fighting for weeks finally seeped out of him, and the following night he found his sleep was not as disturbed as it had been before. He wondered if he might do the same for the Slytherin common room…

It was two weeks before the end of the first term, the sky lightened one morning to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were covered in glittery frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays.

Apparently, Sally-Anne and Theodore had convinced their parents to stay over the holiday with Harry. Sally-Anne had said she needed to use the library extensively for a personal project and Theodore had said that for once he'd like to stay in one spot for more than a few days during holiday. Harry knew it was because they wanted to keep him company and he was glad for it.

Despite Draco's bluster about all the excitement at Malfoy Manor he'd have with Goyle and Crabbe and the presents he'd be sure to get, Harry sensed that his roommate had wanted to stay too. It appeared that Draco's father hadn't forgotten Harry's slight towards him. Harry thought that the grudge might hold for years longer. Harry promised to keep in contact at least once a week using the mirror Draco had gifted him. The other Slytherin girls, besides Sally-Anne, would be leaving for the holiday to be with their families.

Then, to everyone's delight except Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.

"I can get all my Christmas shopping done there!" Theodore had said rather excitedly, and then noticed that Harry was very quiet. "Did you want to give me a list?"

"Yes, if you don't mind," Harry said.

"You ought to pay to have whatever you want wrapped and shipped to the person you want to gift it to," Theodore advised, "It'd be a lot less hassle, and it's really not that much more."

"Thanks. I'll give you money before you leave."

Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third year staying behind during another Hogsmeade weekend, Harry opened his trunk later that day and dug around through the titles of books he hadn't yet picked up to read. He'd already dog-eared the Vindictus Viridian books of curses and jinxes, the book on advanced Quidditch techniques, and _The Ultimate Compendium of All Dark Creatures Known and Un-Known_ by the Nott Patriarchs. Passing over _Hogwarts, A History_, Harry looked at the two that were left: _Magical Snakes and Serpents: A Parselmouth's Perspective_ by Quinn the Sly and _Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming_ by Professor Sibyll Trelawney. Harry chose the one by the Parselmouth. Putting it in his bag, Harry re-locked his trunk and went to his afternoon class.

On the morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry handed the Galleons he had leftover from his trip to Diagon Alley last year and list to Theodore. Harry then bid both Theodore and Sally-Anne a quick farewell. All of the students heading to Hogsmeade were wrapped up in cloaks and scarves as it'd started to snow. Bulstrode looked lost in thought, but Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey all waved at Harry when he lifted a hand in farewell. Draco had merely nodded towards Harry with a look in his eyes that he was thinking of more important things. Harry only remembered then that he was supposed to have talked to Draco about Finnigan.

"Draco," Harry called out.

The other Slytherin stopped and turned back with a questioning look.

Harry walked down the steps, until he was close enough that he wouldn't be overheard by eavesdroppers. "_Don't_ take it too far or I'm going to tell everyone what you've done."

When Draco met his eyes, eager malice had alighted in his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Harry forced his eyes to grow cold because it was the only thing that Draco would take seriously. "Don't. You don't want to get on my bad side."

Draco bowed, though to anyone else watching it would look like he was mocking Harry. "Less work for me if that's how you want it," he murmured. Then he turned on a foot on the slippery snow. "I can't help you, Potter! You should take it up with your overprotective guardian," he said more loudly. "Crabbe, Goyle!" He barked out.

With an amused snort at Draco's misleading words, Harry turned and entered Hogwarts alone. He went down the marble staircase, heading back to the Slytherin dungeons.

After several minutes, Ginny didn't appear out of nowhere despite Harry's expectation. The corridor was chilly and everything felt quiet and still, even though Harry was aware that it was only the third years and many of the older years who'd gone to Hogsmeade to finish Christmas shopping.

"Psst! Harry!"

He turned with his hand draped over his wand. Fred and George Weasley were peering out from behind a set of armor where an unused classroom lay. Uneasily, Harry stepped towards them. "Why are you down here?"

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer for the holiday," Fred said with a mysterious wink.

"Had to send our sister away before we could," George added.

"Come in and have a chat with us." They both nodded toward the empty classroom behind them.

Harry's intuition did not feel that was wise. "I think I'll pass." Before he could whip out his wand, the larger twins grabbed an arm each and dragged him towards the classroom. "Let me go!"

"Blimey, he acts like we're going to drag him through a ritual full of Dark Magic," George said with a laugh.

That confused Harry because prior experience with Dudley and his gang informed him that this sort of situation would inevitably lead to something extremely unpleasant. That was how the world worked.

"Now that you mention it... what do Slytherins do for fun, George?"

"Bully, bully, bully!" They caroused at each other over Harry's head.

"It's two against one!" Harry shouted, not strong enough to wrench his arms from their grip. "Not very fair—"

"If bullying passes for a good time, it's no wonder he's defensive," Fred said with pity in his tone as they kicked the door shut behind them.

"Well, why else would you ambush me and drag me into a classroom?" Harry continued struggling, but they were bigger than him and had a firm hold.

The twins exchanged another look, "And paranoid!"

"Oh, bless him. He doesn't understand," George said.

"Let me go then!" Harry toppled to the floor when they released him on a light toss. The very next moment he had recovered and jumped to his feet. Harry yanked out his wand and pointed it at the twin redheads. "What's this all about?" He kept switching his wand from one to the other.

"Now, Harry. We're freeing you. It's our Christmas present to you," Fred said as if he were three.

That didn't alleviate his worries. He wondered which one he should hex first. "What?"

"Put your wand down and we'll show you," he insisted.

Harry choked out a laugh. "I haven't had the best luck when I'm outmatched and someone tells me to disarm myself."

"Ah, when you put it like that…" George gestured towards his twin. "Go on. Show it to him, Fred."

Fred slowly opened his robes and pulled out a thick folded piece of parchment.

"Put it on the ground and the both of you can step back," Harry said.

"We really need to teach you to lighten up," Fred told him, offering the parchment. "I'm not going to bite. I swear it, Harry."

Harry's eyes darted from one and then the other. George took a step back, showing that he didn't hold a wand in his hands. When Harry thought the both of them had grown exasperated enough, he snatched the parchment from Fred's hands, wand still raised. He flipped it open. The old parchment was blank. "What's this rubbish?"

"What's this rubbish, he says," George said, shaking his head sadly. "That there, dear Harry, is the secret to our success."

Frowning, Harry looked at it more closely. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this was an elaborate trap to lower his guard. What benefit would it be to them? If they were going to bully him, it surely would have started by now.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," Fred said. "But we decided last night that your needs are far greater than ours."

"What success?" Harry said, eyeing the yellowed, old parchment. "You're a couple of pranksters who drive the professors and Filch absolutely barmy."

"Oh, we're terribly hurt to hear that. I suppose you've never tried to buy a Dungbomb—"

"Or a Stink Pellet," George interrupted.

"Or any of the other Zonko's or Honeydukes' products we regularly smuggle in from Hogsmeade," Fred finished.

"Anyway, we know all the secret passageways by heart, so we bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore," George said wistfully.

Harry finally lowered his wand, but didn't put it away. It _looked_ like a piece of parchment. Harry knew that in dealings with magic, just like creatures, harmless-looking objects were often much more than they appeared. Additionally, Ron had said that his brothers knew a way to Hogsmeade as Fred was claiming. "Is this… a map?"

Fred and George lit up with bright grins. "Oh, yes!"

"Where'd you get it?"

The twins exchanged a glance. "Well, when we were in our first year," George began, "young, carefree, and innocent—"

Harry snorted derisively. He doubted they had ever been such.

"Well," George amended, "More innocent than we are now—we got in a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in a corridor and it upset him for some reason—" Fred said as if he had no idea why that would be.

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—"

"Disembowelment—"

"Detention."

"—and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets… it had a very interesting label, didn't it, George." Fred grinned wickedly at his twin.

"Don't tell me. Was it marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_?" Harry said, unable to help the grin forming on his face.

"Told you he was perfect," George said to his twin.

"Right, Harry. George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, and I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed—_that_."

"We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected. Otherwise he would have never confiscated it."

"How do you work it?" Harry asked, offering the ragged old parchment towards them.

"Not going to hex us are you?"

"Or send a Jelly-Legs Curse at us?"

With a sigh, Harry holstered his wand in a blatant motion. "There. See?"

"Aw, our favorite Parselmouth trusts us, George."

"I'm the _only_ Parselmouth in Hogwarts," Harry informed him.

"And our _favorite_," the twins said, stepping into his personal space. Harry forced himself to relax remembering that he would be able to spell off a counter-attack better if he wasn't tense.

"Fred, if you will?" George gestured to the parchment

Fred took out his wand slowly and recited, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_." He tapped the parchment, and at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that Fred's wand had touched. The lines joined each other, they crisscrossed; they fanned into every corner of the parchment. Ink flooded into shapes and designs.

Then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words that proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
_**The Marauder's Map**

"We owe them so much," George said with obvious gratitude.

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Fred said solemnly.

Bewildered, Harry looked up at the twins. "You're really giving a map _to me_?"

"Of course. Where've you been? That's what we said, innit?"

"But... but why?"

The twins pulled away. "A little bird told us you've been in detention—"

"With old Snivellus every week this term—"

"More detentions than us even. Right Fred?"

"Can't deny that. Not after what happened to his Potions Lab the last time—"

"Gratuitous explosions—"

"Outright theft of Restricted ingredients—"

"Transfiguration of every cauldron into a Kneazle."

Harry snorted, laughing. He didn't know what any of that had to do with the map but he could imagine that greasy-haired git's reaction to a roomful of Kneazles.

"Oh, you like that? Well, then you should look at the Marauder's map."

"It'll help you avoid getting caught again—"

"And help you sneak out—"

"Or get up to general mischief and mayhem," they said together.

Flipping pieces aside, Harry opened it. He was amazed by the amount of work that must have gone into it. The map showed every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. "Hang on. This is Hogwarts, not Hogsmeade…"

Harry's words faded when he saw that there were the tiny drops of ink in the shape of feet, moving around. And each was labeled in miniscule writing. Bringing the parchment to closer to his face, Harry realized it was a name. The label said Albus Dumbledore and he was pacing in a room that was labeled Headmaster's Study. "Is that… is that really…?" The ramifications of what he held was immense.

"Dumbledore," Fred said with a broad grin.

"In his study," George added.

"Pacing."

"Does that a lot."

Harry peered at it in awe. His eyes automatically moved to another moving label and saw that Mrs. Norris was currently prowling around the second floor. The speedy label was Peeves the Poltergeist bouncing around the trophy room.

"So this map of Hogwarts shows…" Harry began.

"Everyone," George answered.

"Everything," Fred said.

"Where they are—"

"What they're doing—"

"Every minute—"

"Every day—"

Bloody hell, Harry thought. He flipped through the map until he found their location in the Alchemy Classroom. His ink feet and Fred and George's were unmoving. He stepped to the left and saw his left foot move and then his right the very instant he moved. If… If someone ever had gotten a hold of this, he would have been in grave danger if he ever traveled alone. It explained how the Weasley twins had ambushed him in in the corridor during his first Christmas holiday at Hogwarts, how they had ambushed him today.

"Now, there are seven passageways out of the castle," George declared.

"Filch knows these four." Fred pointed at each of them. "But we're sure that we're the only ones who know about _these_." His fingers quickly went to the remaining three. "And don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but now it's caved in—completely blocked."

George pointed to the one out in the middle of Hogwarts lawn. "And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance."

Harry's mind immediately flung back to another conversation. '_That tree was planted the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts—'_

The Gryffindor Beaters both brought their hands back. "So naturally we recommend _this one_." Then they pointed to the third floor corridor. "The One-eyed Witch passageway will lead you straight into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. If there's ever a password to use, the map will tell you all you need to know."

"Don't the owners have a problem with you using their cellar?" Harry asked.

"We have an agreement with the Honeydukes. We help them around their store free of charge and they allow our use of the passageway without informing the headmaster of our unauthorized traveling," George answered.

"They know you're coming. Herman seemed especially tickled by the idea. He said he'd help you with a Disillusionment charm if you'd like to go around Hogsmeade during the day when the dementors aren't patrolling," Fred said.

"Right, best we hurry, Snape is heading this way," George said briskly, pointing at the map. Harry thought they were rather relaxed when the Slytherin Head of House would be nearly on top of them in thirty seconds or less. "Now, don't forget to wipe it after you've used it—"

"Or else anyone can read it," Fred said warningly, "Give it a tap and say—"

"_Mischief managed!_" George said, demonstrating with his wand.

Harry shoved it into the back pocket of his trousers under his robes, stepped back quickly, and took out his wand again.

The twins looked affronted. "Hey—"

"What—"

"Trust me and play along," Harry said. He was already imagining that they had dragged him in here to do terrible things to him.

In a moment, the door swung open, and Snape stepped in peering at them with a nasty look. "Well, well. What do we have here? Two Gryffindors and a scion of Potter scheming in a dark room?"

"Is that what it looks like?" Harry retorted angrily, wand still pointed at the Weasley twins.

Immediately, the Potions Master's expression shuttered. "My, what would Minerva think, dragging a third year student into an unused classroom… I wonder."

The Weasley twins laughed good-naturedly. "Nothing quite as extensive as your perverted mind can draw up, I expect," Fred taunted.

"We only wanted to cheer him up a bit, since you've kindly left him the odd one out in his year," George said.

"And we would've offered to smuggle you out if you'd given us half a chance," the other stated more solemnly to Harry.

Blinking at him, Harry felt surprised and lowered his wand.

Snape's nostrils flared. "Forty points from Gryffindor, and if I catch you down here again _detention_ is the least of your concern," he said menacingly.

The Weasley twins laughed, smirking in an entirely satisfied way, and ran out of the room, jeering. "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape!" They caroused.

"Ten more points from Gryffindor for being obnoxiously loud in the corridor!" He roared.

Thinking of his cupboard, Harry took in a deep breath. His hand was still tightly gripping his wand. When the Potions Master said nothing else, Harry turned to leave the room.

"Lupin tells me you've asked for extra lessons," Snape said.

Harry paused at the door, turning so he stood sideways in the doorway. "Did he?" Harry wondered if he'd be disallowed from discovering exactly why Professor Lupin was suspect in letting Black in.

Snape snorted. "I _will_ allow these lessons, so long as they lie outside a certain time frame…"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He neither desired to be infected by Lycanthropy nor wanted to watch the gruesome transformation forced by the full moon. "May I go?"

"Next time, you will be escorted by first or second years should you intend to be somewhere outside of the Slytherin House on Hogsmeade weekends."

A look of anger flashed across Harry's face at the thought of the younger students following after him like a pack of lost puppies.

"No? I could assign outside work to keep you preoccupied."

"I want my cloak back, sir."

"Your Spellfast cloak has not yet been repaired."

"_No_," Harry hissed through clenched teeth, "My Invisibility Cloak!"

"It is mine as per our agreement."

Harry was stunned, and then anger filled him, and he had to force himself to keep his wand pointed at the ground. "That—but that was my dad's!"

"You will receive it at a later date. I don't trust you not to wander about with Black on the loose," Snape said with harsh tone.

Harry directed a look of pure loathing past the Death Eater. "I don't care about Black. I just want to go to Hogsmeade before I turn thirty."

"Oh yes, you expect me to believe that you want to trot off to Hogsmeade for a spot of _fun_…? When you actually want to be the one to catch Black on your own..." Snape smirked. "Tut, tut, Potter. Can't be very cunning when I am quite accustomed to how your mind works."

With a wordless growl, Harry stormed out of the classroom and down the corridor. _That greasy-haired git!_

At the Thin Lady's portrait, he gave her the password and rushed down the stairs into the common room. Furiously walking past several timid first years to the dormitory stairwell, Harry took the steps two at a time.

Once inside his room, excitement flooded through Harry, and he laughed happily in the empty room. He'd finally gotten something past Snape! Harry knew very well it only worked because he believed the lie with everything he had, acted more or less normally, and he hadn't met the adult's eyes, so Snape couldn't read his mind—or whatever-it-was a Legilimens did. That Snape suspected that Harry wanted to catch Black all by himself wasn't exactly a shocker. The adult always presumed the worst case scenario. Why else did he bother to have Harry watched by his housemates?

Pulling the map out of his trousers, Harry toed off his boots and hopped onto the bed. He laid the map out for inspection. He knew it was a powerful magical object that could be used to attack or steal from other students. He also knew that there was no proper justification for its use either. Not only did it present a security breach of Hogwarts, it invaded the privacy of others. Harry was inordinately glad that the twins had decided to pass it along to him and not to Ron Weasley or any of the Gryffindor boys his age. Harry could just imagine the damage and chaos they'd wreak upon their enemies and the school-at-large. The only reason why Harry wanted to keep it was because he had no desire to live through another year ignorant of the dangerous goings-on and evil lurking about.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," he whispered, tapping the map with his wand. After the map had reformed, Harry traced his finger along the One-Eyed Witch's passage to Honeydukes. For a second, Harry thought about going there. Unfortunately, his sneaking out would result in getting caught, even if he'd been Disillusioned by Mr. Honeyduke. In addition, he couldn't discount Theodore's information about any Alerting Spells notifying the headmaster. Harry didn't want to risk the passageway yet.

His finger drew down to the entrance to the passageway where the Whomping Willow was planted. He wasn't insane enough to try to enter it after what had happened last year. Obviously there was some connection between Professor Lupin's arrival as a student and the violent tree being planted...

If there was a passageway meant to be used, then that meant that the Whomping Willow could be stopped momentarily. He couldn't very well ask Professor Lupin about it. For one, the adult might be using it now during his gruesome transformations and wouldn't want Harry to stoop in for a peek, even if Harry asserted that he would never want to do such a thing. For another, it would be the perfect place for an Animagus to hide. Harry knew he was making a lot of assumptions, but it was a thought to keep in mind. Black could just as easily be living in the Forbidden Forest...

Harry decided he would watch the map, try to figure out any unusual patterns of the staff or strangers coming and going from the school, and ignore the rest of the student population out of common decency… Before that, he flipped through the map, searching out the one name that had caused him such misery that year: Sirius Black.

Even though he couldn't find the name, a hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He imagined Black kneeling before Voldemort in his deep voice, '_It has happened, my Lord… the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper…_' And then Voldemort was laughing at the news, the same laugh that Harry heard as his mother pleaded to have his life spared. He imagined Black going to his parents' house glowing with happiness after Voldemort had done the deed, happy to have stolen their son from them to raise as his own. Harry imagined Black confronting Pettigrew (a faceless man), likely the only one who'd bore witness to Black becoming a Secret-Keeper, and blasting him into a thousand pieces…

_But what if it wasn't him?_

Draco's suspicions at Wizarding justice being miscarried hung like heavy doubt in Harry's mind. Harry _wanted_ someone to blame for taking his parents away, for leaving him alone to deal with the horrible Dursleys. Then after he was taken from them, he'd been delivered to the greasy-haired Potions Master who only agreed to the arrangement because of his duty to the headmaster.

_Even Hagrid had been unjustly accused fifty years ago_, Harry's doubt whispered. _Hagrid had been expelled and his wand broken in two without even being a Parselmouth… _

That was the decision of a headmaster frantic to keep the panicked students under control, his logic reasoned, you'd think a whole courtroom of wizards and witches in the Wizengamot couldn't have figured out what had really happened for themselves? Azkaban is _not_ a place to send people to for nothing.

_But last year, Hagrid had spent time in Azkaban until it was found out who was really opening the Chamber of Secrets…They hadn't known whether or not he was truly the culprit._

Harry blanched in realization. Did magical people not have an enchanted holding cell for the accused? The idea of someone being sent to Azkaban on false charges… The idea that Sirius Black _could_ be innocent led to Harry's horrified realization that innocent people might be feeding dementors this very instant.

His pale fingers traced Rubeus Hagrid's label, meandering around the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize… should've found out who was doing it sooner," Harry whispered. Hagrid had unjustly spent two months in Azkaban; he had to be very brave indeed to walk knowingly into a dark place full of dementors. Harry would have run away rather than have his good memories stolen or look eye to eye with dark madness.

"_Mischief Managed_." He tapped the map with his wand.

Harry looked around the empty room. Where could he keep it where it would be safe? If he put it anywhere, it would be found by Draco who couldn't keep his questing fingers from Harry's possessions. When confronted, the other teen had only given a half-hearted apology about it. Harry really hadn't expected anything different.

The parchment was too bulky and noticeable under his cloak and robes to keep it there.

An idea came to him and he jumped up, unlocking his trunk. Digging out his old burlap sack, Harry looked at it for a moment, imagining what shape and form could be most useful for what he needed. Having this visualization in mind, Harry Transfigured it into a small, green leather pouch with drawstrings. He opened it and slipped his thumbs into the neck; it was just wide enough for a rolled parchment to slip through. Then he placed an Extension Charm on it. Taking an essay he'd gotten back last week, he pushed it through and closed the pouch. There was no noticeable bulge or outward defacement.

Opening it up, he reached in and took the essay out, unfurling it to check for damage. It was all right.

Satisfied with his spellwork, Harry grabbed the map and shoved it into the successfully Extended pouch. Closed, the pouch fit into the palm of his hand, a size that would easily fit inside his pocket… Placing it inside an inner pocket of his robes, he stepped in front of Draco's full-length mirror. No one would notice a thing.

With a triumphant look at his reflection, Harry grabbed his schoolbag and bounded back to his bed. He'd get some reading done before lunch…

* * *

All through dinner Theodore and Sally-Anne were looking at him nervously. Harry had to think about it for a moment before it came to him. He hadn't been moody ever since they returned from Hogsmeade an hour prior, bearing the gifts he'd asked not to be sent out by Owl Post.

"Don't worry," he told them as they walked to the Slytherin common room from the Great Hall. "I've gotten over not going. Besides, I've met the first years. They're not as immature and nosy as I thought they'd be." Harry grimaced. "Though I could do without their hero-worship."

Sally-Anne smiled. "Well, you _are_ their role model…"

"Some role model I am," Harry groused. "I've probably had more detention from Snape than all the Slytherins combined, and I can't play my favorite sport without getting attacked."

"I imagine the Quidditch scouts would love that," Theodore said and then impersonated Harry's congenial tone, " 'I'm so terribly sorry, sir, but if you sign me on I can only guarantee unlucky things will happen to me, and I don't think you could afford the numerous visits to the hospital I'd require'."

"I already said I wasn't going to play professionally, even before I realized flying on a broom was hazardous for my health."

"Did I just hear Harry Potter say that something was hazardous to his health?" Draco's smug voice said from behind cutting through the crowded Dungeon corridor.

"You shut up," Harry said with a mean tone. There was only one way to relate to Draco, Harry had decided. He turned with playful jig of his eyebrows and continued walking sideways. "And I'll remind you that the Snitch is to be chased, not the other way around."

"How dare you imply that _I_ am afraid of tiny little Snitch," Draco parried with a cruel tone just as jokingly. The shadows played over his face as they passed by the sconces lighting the dungeon corridor.

"No," Harry said, "I'm only worried that you've been on the bench for so long that you've forgotten how to play without me to find it for you first."

Theodore and Sally-Anne burst into surprised laughter, while Draco narrowed his eyes with thinned lips.

Harry's sneering expression melted into a good-humored grin. He stuck his nose in the air with the same attitude as Draco had on many occasions. "I think it's _wonderful_ that a Muggle-raised Wizard's learned how to provoke someone, wouldn't you?" He drawled in a haughty tone he thought was very much Draco's.

"Very spot-on, Harry," Theodore said as Sally-Anne giggled.

The surprise came when Draco let out high-pitched chortle which he then cut off with a dignified cough. "Yes, quite," he agreed. "All joking aside, a certain bully won't be troubling you anymore."

Harry _had_ wondered the very moment he'd gone to dinner when the Gryffindor table remained mysteriously quiet. He'd been a little worried until he'd met the burning blue gaze from Seamus Finnigan, who appeared unharmed from whatever had happened at Hogsmeade.

"You don't say? I'm glad he's come to his senses."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled nastily, nodding to one another. "Heh, Finny, won't be botherin' ya no more, Potter, not after we were done with 'im," Crabbe said with a lop-sided smirk, slapping a fist into his other hand menacingly.

Harry flicked his eyes to them and then to Draco, raising an eyebrow. How far did they take their bullying?

"Hush up. I've told you before: don't gloat in public," Draco said as if he was exasperated with them rather than angry, a thin line that had taken Harry some time to uncover, since the two hulking teens hardly spoke.

Crabbe scowled and Goyle looked contrite. Harry pondered over whether the two dim-witted boys were more like brothers to Draco than simple lackeys. They weren't treated like Pike Lestrange, but they weren't treated like dirt either.

Sally-Anne and Theodore had pulled ahead of them, chatting animatedly about their parents' plans for the holiday. It reminded Harry of a question he had.

"Draco, when are you available to talk over the holiday?"

Appearing pleased, Draco nodded to himself. "Half past seven, Monday mornings?"

Harry nodded, knowing that everyone would be leaving mid-morning tomorrow as it was.

* * *

When Harry woke the next day, he led the daily exercise like it was any other day. In the common room, Draco had excused himself to hurry after a fifth year that Harry didn't know, his hulking pawns following. So, Theodore and Harry left out the portrait-hole.

"Uzbekistan is where Da wants to go next. He wanted me to go with him because the Cryptodingists have recently discovered magical ruins of unknown origin. Da thinks it was a colony of free elves based off the large amount of decorative plateware uncovered. I still told him no. Honestly, how many times do I get the chance to experience normal, age-appropriate activities with a friend?"

Harry thought a colony of free house-elves was a fascinating concept. "Age-appropriate?"

Theodore grinned. "How many wizards do you know have been part of a team to take down a rogue Nundu?"

"A Nundu?" Harry knew it was a type of poison-breathing leopard with venomous claws and was considered more dangerous than a clutch of full-grown dragons. "_You_ killed a Nundu?"

"No, can't use magic outside of school. I was part of the support group providing reconnaissance and such, and if anything went wrong when the attack group charged I was still in the range of—"

"Theo, I need to speak to you. It's urgent," Zabini said, glancing directly at Harry as if to say that he'd prefer if they were private.

After an awkward moment because Harry had expected Theodore to insist on meeting with the Gryffindor later, Harry said, "I'll go on ahead to breakfast, the stairs aren't much farther."

Theodore nodded with a curious look towards the Gryffindor. "_Muffliato_."

Anything else they might have said filled Harry's ears with distinct buzzing, until he had turned the corner that led straight to the stairs. He was halfway there when he heard wheezing, a rattling like someone with lungs full of water. Harry froze, drawing his wand. The corridor was chilly. He wasn't experiencing any of the other symptoms yet nor was his Bewitched watch cold.

"_Lumos Pyros!"_ He called out to lighten the branched off passageway where the sconces had gone dark.

Stumbling back, Harry let out a startled shout. A tall, black-hooded dementor was gliding towards him with that horrible wheezing sound. A rotten, glistening hand reaching out for him. Scared, he lifted up his wand, thinking of his Slytherin family. "_Expecto Patronum!"_

A mighty, incorporeal stag burst out the tip of his wand, head full of forward-angled antlers, charging with deadly intent. It was so bright and lovely that Harry's heart was even lighter looking upon it.

Suddenly the dementor let out a scream that sounded like multiple people, and Harry's Patronus ran straight through the creature.

"Harry!" He looked up to see that Theodore had run around the corner, wand drawn. His friend floundered for a moment before grinning. "I see you have things under control…"

"The dementor didn't affect me at all! I didn't feel a thing!"

Theodore glanced away half-amused and half-embarrassed, and then his expression was entirely amused. "Good work! … Too bad that wasn't a dementor…"

Harry turned to see that three shapes were fighting with the large black, torn dementor robe, the bluish-grey arm abandoned on the ground. Confusion filtered through his joy and then anger as three heads popped out.

His Bewitched watch was still warm. Harry should've known it wasn't a real dementor. It made absolutely no sense why there would be one inside Hogwarts! "That was a rather low and cowardly trick for three Gryffindors," Harry said angrily.

A young Gryffindor, who Harry didn't know, was blushing furiously, stammering apologies and feeble excuses about it just being a stupid prank, and the most unassuming Gryffindor of his year, Dean Thomas, didn't meet Harry's flat stare.

Seamus Finnigan laughed. "Did you see his face?" Finnigan mimed a frightened look and weak shout. "Oh, no! The dementor's comin' ta Kiss me!"

The anger Harry had… began to ebb when he realized what the prank meant for Finnigan. He couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. "You must be an idiot if whatever Draco told you in Hogsmeade didn't frighten you away from being a bully." He glanced at Theodore who was waiting for him by the staircase and then turned his back to Finnigan.

"Oi! Don't turn your back on me, Scarhead!" The hot-headed Gryffindor yelled, but Harry ignored him. His favored nickname among the Slytherins didn't make a very good insult. "Snake-face! Coward!"

Leaving the angry Gryffindor behind, the Slytherins climbed the stairs calmly. Then Theodore said, "Professor Lupin could have hired them to frighten you and build up your self-confidence."

"I doubt it. He's not the type."

"At least you seem to have gotten the hang of summoning an incorporeal Patronus…"

Harry smiled because Theodore was right. He hadn't properly cast his Patronus since Snape's DADA lesson. "So, did Zabini have something urgent to say or was the whole point to separate us?"

"He had to tell me something, but I wouldn't put it past him. More efficient that way," Theodore said amiably. "I don't blame him for his devious tactics… I'd hate to be put in Gryffindor myself with all their blustery self-righteousness."

At the Slytherin long table, Crabbe and Goyle had left room on either side of Draco. Goyle was speaking quietly with Bulstrode and Crabbe was laughing loudly with Pike Lestrange. When Harry and Theodore finally sat down on either side of Draco, they were asked, "What took you so long?"

The two exchanged a glance past the blond teen between them. 'You or me?' Theodore's eyes seemed to say. Harry nodded towards him, not wanting to be the one to tell Draco that whatever he'd done to threaten Finnigan hadn't stuck.

Draco let out an exasperated sigh. "What's the matter? Out with it."

Very casually, Theodore leaned back, gesturing towards Harry. "Finnigan and a couple of accomplices pretended to be a rather convincing dementor," he said.

A look of pure murder flew across Draco's face, and he laid his hands palm down on the table. Since he wasn't going for his wand it meant that he wasn't going to hex Finnigan, who had just rejoined the Gryffindor table laughing about his successful prank.

"I'll take care of it," Draco promised. Harry had never seen his face so sinister. It was too chilling to disbelieve.

"Don't hurt him. It was just a stupid, harmless prank," Harry said.

"What I plan to do will only hurt him indirectly."

"Don't hex anyone to get back at him, either," Harry clarified.

"_Please_. My plans are more sophisticated than that." Draco turned to Theodore. "Do you still have that Dark Creature Detector you showed me?"

Theodore nodded and the two teens began to haggle over the price for said item, changing the subject entirely.

Scooping up a large scoop of mash, Harry ate. Manipulating a bully to not harshly bully his own bully left him with an unpleasant feeling. If only people treated everyone nicely, then he wouldn't have this problem.


	14. Buckbeak's Upcoming Hearing

_**Author's Notes:** Some interesting conversations going on here...  
_

* * *

The first night of the holiday Harry didn't sleep until daybreak. He'd wanted to search the Marauder's Map for any clues as to Sirius Black's whereabouts. Before he knew it it'd been time for him to talk to Draco. Harry cast a Silencing Ward before he opened the compact, since Theodore was still asleep.

After the beginning pleasantries, he asked how often Wizengamot justice had been miscarried and what was done for the wrongly accused. Draco explained that sometimes judgments were reversed when new evidence presented itself and that there was hardly anything done to compensate the wrongly accused, since a wealthy family could easily pay to keep the judgment process a lengthy affair and pay for witnesses to add conflicting evidence that would generally rule in favor of the accused.

"Are there holding cells for the accused? You do have those for the appeals process at least?"

"Appeals process?" Draco echoed strangely. "I suppose if you have the Galleons for it, an appeal might change the mind of a few judges, just enough to get a reversal.

Harry frowned at him. "No, not when you pay for a reversal..." He let out a sigh. "Is there an appeals process where the accused can take their case to a higher court for free and impartial re-judgment?"

Draco looked at him inquisitively. "Nothing in the court room is free or impartial."

That was pathetic. Harry was thirteen and even he knew that corruption wasn't a good thing. "So you're saying that those who can afford it never end up in Azkaban even if they're guilty."

"As long as you can prove there's enough doubt about whether you committed the crime or not, then yes."

Thinking this was about the stupidest thing he'd ever heard of, Harry had to close his eyes for a moment. "Are you aware that Muggles have a more just legal system?"

"How? Those savages don't require any proof whatsoever before they burn a person at the stake."

"Criminals aren't burnt alive in the United Kingdom. You're about three centuries out of date."

"So, a Muggle court room _is_ free and impartial?" Draco sounded as if he had a hard time believing this.

"You have to pay your lawyer, but the judges are provided by the government. The judges are supposed to be fair and impartial about applying the law _without _being bribed. There are laws against that."

Draco's lips had pursed thoughtfully.

"I know you won't believe me, but Muggles _are_ like us without the magic, without the sense of it."

"Theo has told me that _Muggles_ use a skill called eleck-trickity…"

"Electricity," Harry corrected, trying not to be irritated when Draco was actually listening to him instead of dismissing his knowledge of Muggles. "And it's not really a skill. It's energy to run machines."

Draco looked at Harry with an unreadable expression. "…Professor Burbage's expertise at Muggle Studies is world-renowned. You don't mean to tell me _she's _wrong."

Oh yes, Harry had read plenty of what the Muggle 'experts' had to say when he was trying to find a book on Basic Mechanisms for Tracey last year. A lot of it was inaccurate rubbish. "If the _experts_ don't even know the basic principles of electricity, if they think that 'charge' is just a Muggle term for a spark of synthesized magic, if they don't teach you the difference between voltage and current, then there's no point."

"If it's not synthesized magic, what else would it be?"

"I think you're missing the point…" Harry frowned.

"Which was?"

"A year ago Arthur Weasley asked me what the plug on the end of an electrical appliance was, and _he's_ the Department Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry! And he called the device a _dee-vice_, which by the way is a useless hunk of metal, glass, and plastic, unless there's _electricity_ going through it."

Draco's platinum blond eyebrows lifted maintaining a blank expression which meant that he hadn't any idea of what Harry was ranting about. "…Plastic?"

"Erm. Man-made material used to make containers and things. You can make so many different types of it cheaply, and there's flexible plastics that don't break as easily as glass…"

Draco frowned in thought. "So the Muggles have synthesized a substance for containment since they couldn't charm glass to be Unbreakable…?"

"I don't know why or how plastic was invented." Harry was a little disappointed at himself.

"Have you ever thought about writing a book explaining basic, rudimentary Muggle Artifacts to others?" Draco's eyes had taken on a calculating gleam.

"I'm hardly a Muggle expert. I only had Muggle schooling for five years before I came to Hogwarts." Harry gestured at nothing in particular. "I suppose I _could_. Then I wouldn't have to ever again explain that a rubber duck is a brightly colored children's toy that floats in bath water and that variations of the toy can squeak or squirt water when squeezed."

"A toy for infants and toddlers, then?"

"Yes. Dudley had several." Harry grimaced. "I've always preferred showers. I don't see why I would want to soak long enough to get wrinkled fingers."

"The Boy-Who-Lived doesn't like long baths," Draco said as if he were writing it down, and perhaps he was. Draco had warned Harry that his father was hungry for information about him.

"I'll shut this on you if you don't stop," Harry warned, shaking the compact mirror.

Draco smiled easily. "I've never heard you speak of your childhood. You can't fault me for getting a little excited."

"Is that really interesting?"

"Yes, the court records are severely lacking. Nobody wants to read how the Boy-Who-Lived was raised like a house-elf."

Appalled, Harry stared at Draco.

"In circumspect, I should have kept that to myself," his friend said.

"Good day, Draco." Harry went to close the lid.

"Wait, wait! I…" Draco hesitated and then forced the next word to leave his lips, "_Apologize_. I didn't do it out of curiosity; my father made me do it in exchange for looking at the records on Black's trials."

"I'm sure he wanted you to look for weaknesses," Harry said brutally.

Draco looked revolted. "I would never use anything I found against _you_."

"Of course, you'd say that. I know that you don't really like me. I overheard you once at Diagon Alley complaining to your father about me."

Draco's face pinked and then twisted.

"It's all right. We're about as contradictory as you get. Me, raised as a Muggle, and you raised as you were meant to be." Harry looked at him sadly, laying on the pity. "I'll even feed you information to keep your father happy if you want."

"I can't believe you!" Draco exploded viciously. That was certainly easier than Harry thought it would be. "You think I bullied Finnigan just to stay on your good side?!"

"Probably."

"You think I've given you a present every Christmas and birthday because my father expected me to?!"

"Likely."

"You think that I deliberately received special permission to stay by your side after that—that _chicken_ tore you up—?!"

"You did? I didn't know that." Baiting Draco wasn't all that bad if it revealed things about the other teen that caught Harry by surprise. It made him a little happy.

Draco gaped at him and then clicked teeth together. A ruthless glare was directed at him. His face was entirely red now.

Wholly happy to recognize humanity in Draco, Harry tried to suppress his expression of it. His lips curled into a flattened grin. So, Draco was fonder of Harry than he acted.

"Just so you know, my father is supposed to think I hate you. If he thought I was going soft, he'd break our friendship off in a heartbeat," Draco said quietly.

Harry's smile disappeared. "Why?"

"I think he expects that preventing a true friendship with you will make certain events easier on me after the Dark Lord rises." Draco looked away from Harry.

Harry's laughter was hollow. "I see. Your father… he doesn't think I have much longer to live, does he? I guess I ought to get a Living Will done, or whatever the magical equivalent is. Wouldn't want all my fancy gifts going back to him."

Draco had a stricken look on his face.

"Thank you for answering my questions. I'll talk to you tomorrow." When there was only silence, Harry closed the compact and cancelled the ward. He fell asleep holding the compact tightly in his palm.

He dreamed fitfully. People were screaming, there were green flashes. His father, James, dead. His mother pleading. A warm hand grabbed his shoulder and a sweat-soaked Harry came awake with a gasp. Theodore was staring down at him worriedly, his hand pulled away from Harry's clammy shoulder. "Harry… you look terrible."

"I'm fine," he said, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"Nearly time for lunch." Theodore hesitated. "Professor Snape told us what happened with the Weasley twins when we'd gone to Hogsmeade. Heard they gave you quite a fright."

"Oh yes. It was terrible," Harry lied with a straight face.

Something began to whistle distantly.

Theodore looked around curiously. "It's not the first time I heard that. It almost sounds like…"

Harry pushed himself up, tapping his wand several times against the side of his trunk. A shrill, tinny whistle exuded from inside. He lifted the object in his palm. His Pocket Sneakoscope was whirling and gleaming. "The Weasleys hand-delivered a Christmas present in the Alchemy Classroom." The Sneakoscope fell silent. "I'd nearly forgotten Ginny sent this to me."

"This is marketed as a child's trinket, liable to sell more that way…" Theodore said, "I guess you wouldn't know that only someone who was a trained Occlumens can keep it silent when they lie?" Theodore had such a serious expression that Harry knew he wasn't putting him on.

An Occlumens must be a person who could perform Occlumency then, which countered a Legilimen's skill.

"Really?" Harry looked at the Sneakoscope with an appraising eye. "Would you happen to know if any of the professors can teach that ability?"

"Well, they say the headmaster can teach any type of magic other than the really Dark ones… and there's always been a rumor that Professor Snape is a skilled Legilimens. Why do you ask?"

"Neville's grandmother is a Legilimens." Harry scowled hating the idea of asking Snape for help with anything.

"Ah, yes. Yes, she definitely is. Everyone says that Augusta Longbottom was a wicked good Obliviator in her heyday. It's why everyone knows better than to mess with her."

"Obliviator?"

"Ah… they're the people who… change memories. They erase or modify memories with Oblivating Spells or Confundus Charms. Most of them work for the Ministry of Magic to keep our world a secret from Muggles when our wars and fights spill out into theirs. Some of them work at St. Mungo's to alleviate traumatic experiences. Of course Psych-Healers only remove the memories that are the root of the problem." Theodore gave Harry a long look.

"I am not having the only memories of my parents erased," Harry snapped. Sally-Anne must have told him. He wondered if she'd told everyone else too.

"Forget I suggested it then."

Harry put the magical device down and went to his wardrobe pulling out clothes to change into.

Theodore took a deep breath. "I thought that maybe _not_ having to hear them scream for mercy might help you sleep better. My mum…" Theodore nearly choked on the word. "My mum died in a right nasty way in front of me. If I still remembered it, the dementors would have affected me like you and the Weasley girl."

Harry looked at his friend, feeling bad for him. "I'm sorry about your mum, Theo."

He gave Harry quite a weak smile. "It was a long time ago. And, most importantly, I don't remember seeing her die. I only remember my other memories of her."

"But I don't have any other memories of my mum," Harry reminded him.

Theodore reached into Harry's still-open trunk and pulled out the two photo albums. "You have these, don't you? And there are friends of hers you can talk to."

"Maybe later," Harry said with a tone of finality, adjusting his Freshened robes.

Placing the photo albums on Harry's bed with a gentle hand, Theodore wistfully nodded.

* * *

Harry spent most of the day doing homework and reading the book by Quinn the Sly. He rather liked it as it explained in detail different snake species' preferences, which the _Ultimate Compendium _had left out. Opalescent Lionsnakes in particular were extremely thirsty creatures like their Spiny-Beak Cockerel sire and enjoyed dark nesting grounds where pests and water could be found plentiful. Harry then read that it took nearly thirteen months for a breeding pair to become established before they sought their Master witch or wizard out. It certainly explained why he hadn't seen a scale or fang of them since he'd handed them over to the headmaster.

The next day, he had a short conversation via mirror with Draco about the Transfiguration essay they had to get done, and then did his usual workout with Theodore. They went to breakfast with Sally-Anne and saw that the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars, silver streamers and ornaments hanging from the enchanted ceiling. Afterwards, Harry and Theodore parted ways from Sally-Anne to go to the Slytherin common room to work on their essays. After a few hours of that, he and Theodore went to see Sally-Anne in the library.

On their way, they noticed that the rest of the Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors and mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors.

In the library, they were very surprised to find Sally-Anne next to Hermione, feverishly looking through thick, dusty tomes. _The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology, Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality, _and _True Stories and Judgments of Dangerous Winged Creatures_ were sitting at the front while Sally-Anne and Hermione paged through volumes of something else. Harry peered at the spine: _Magical Case Law: 1015-1130 vol xiii_.

Before either Theodore or Harry could ask them what they were looking for, Ron came around the corner with another stack of books. He set them down. "Oh good, you can help me. Keeping these two fed is a nightmare."

"And what am I being volunteered for?" Theodore asked.

"Forget it." Ron shook his head. "Bloody Slytherins," he muttered under his breath as he headed back to the shelves of books.

"We haven't found anything to help Buckbeak win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures yet," Hermione said breezily.

"Hagrid must be really torn up about it," Harry said unhelpfully. He felt like an utter prat. He'd _completely_ forgotten about that. Why hadn't Hermione sent him a letter asking for help?

She shot a look at Harry. "So, we're speaking now?" That explained it.

"You're the one who stopped writing to me," Harry accused, before he'd thought about what he was saying. He looked away feeling ashamed of himself. He was the one who'd stopped talking to her after all.

"Oh, I did? I must've lost track. Sorry. All the electives I'm taking have eaten up my free time."

Leaning back in his chair, Theodore waved a dismissive hand. "Well, I wish you all a hearty 'good luck' at your futile endeavor."

"_You_ owe me a favor," Sally-Anne informed him with a stiff back.

"It'd be a favor wasted then."

Both of the girls snorted.

"We don't need your help if you're normally this callous," Hermione said icily.

Harry knew that once Theodore set his mind there was no changing it. "Why do you say it's impossible?"

"Look, the impartiality of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is nonexistent. It was established to eliminate Magical creatures that have attacked magical folk, not to provide a fair trial for the accused creature. It's a hearing that always ends in execution, excepting in cases where they can't get near enough to the creature to kill it."

That didn't sound good for Buckbeak's continued existence.

"Worse of all, everyone knows that Committee is in the pocket of Lucius Malfoy. And from what Draco's told me, his father wants that hippogriff dead as soon as possible."

"It doesn't mean we have to give up!" Hermione snapped at him.

"Fine, don't listen to me." Theodore looked at Harry. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm going to help them look."

As if he expected Harry's answer, Theodore nodded and took an empty table across from them. He opened a book to read.

Meanwhile, Harry cracked open _Fowl or Foul?_ and began to read.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by the noise of Draco's irritated voice by his ear. He popped open the compact and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I stayed up too late."

"You look _dreadful_."

"And a Happy Christmas to you." Harry put on his glasses.

Draco snorted. "Merry Christmas."

"Draco, I need to owe you a favor."

"Another favor within three months of the last? What do you want?" Draco's eyes were suddenly very alert.

"Maybe it's worth two."

"Don't wind me up. What is it?"

"I need you to stop Buckbeak's execution."

The other teen snorted. "That would be worth more than two, I think."

"Three, then," Harry said.

Draco gave him a look. "I would have to deal with my father for this one and _he_ doesn't owe me any favors at the moment."

"Oh, alright. Four, and that's my final offer."

"Limitless favors?"

"Of course not, and you already know what I won't do."

"Right, can't ask you to kill or bully anyone for me or tell you who you can be friendly with. By the way, how's Hermione?"

Harry was irritated. "I said I wouldn't talk to her until the end of first term. I kept my end of the bargain."

"That you did. An admirable job as well as I hardly saw any letters to or from her either."

"Do we have a deal?" Harry wanted this done as soon as possible so he didn't have to read about all the hippogriffs that were summarily executed in gruesome ways just because an idiot couldn't follow the proper protocols when dealing with them.

"Harry! Quit chatting with your boyfriend. I want to open up presents," Theodore teased through Harry's bed curtains.

"Boyfriend? Boys don't have boyfriends," Harry said with a look of disgust on his face.

"Ah!" Draco sounded disappointed, "And here I thought we were _destined_ to be together!"

Harry wasn't sure how to take that. "Goodbye, Draco." He shut the compact without waiting for a response and set it on the small table by his bed. Pushing the bed curtains back, he shot a look at Theodore. "That wasn't funny."

Theodore laughed. "On the contrary my sweet Muggle-raised friend, it was _hilarious_!" He laughed more, plopping down on the ground to ravage the paper from his presents.

Without bothering to continue that line of conversation, Harry sat at the foot of his bed. There was a rather large, lumpy present in the heap. Harry picked it up and squinted at the tag. "Strange…"

"What?" Theodore said already tearing open his presents with reckless abandon.

"This is from the Weasley family." His fingers tore through the paper. They had sent him an emerald green jumper with the Slytherin snake knitted on the front, a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas plum cake, and a box of nut brittle. Harry looked at all of it bemused. "What do you think it means?"

"My dear friend, I believe Mrs. Weasley has read your book."

"_My_ _book_? I haven't written anything."

Theodore gave him a particularly pitying look. "_The Sad and Peculiar Muggle Upbringing of the Boy-Who-Lived_ by Rita Skeeter."

"You're joking," Harry said flatly.

"No, sadly. It's based off the confiscated memories of your Muggle relatives and a few of your schoolmarms. The court records are all there for perusal if someone takes the time to. Quite shocking details of child mistreatment."

"You've read it?"

"No, but my father has. Said it would ruin my friendship with you if I had." Theodore chuckled. "I wouldn't treat you any differently after you've been so nice to me."

Deciding that was all he needed to hear about that, Harry reached for his next package and unwrapped it. "What'd you get from me?" He set the Vindictus Viridian book on hexes and anti-hexes from Sally-Anne to the side, and reached for his next gift

"Goblin-made silver bangles. They're my _favorite_. Thank you so much, Harry!" After tying his Dark creature-sensing amulet to one of the bangles, Theodore slipped them both on and proudly showed them off.

"You don't intend to get close to Professor Lupin during the boggart-dementor lessons he has for us?" Harry unwrapped another book, this time _The_ _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ from Hermione Granger. There was a card with it, but Harry set it aside.

"You misunderstand, Harry. I trust Professor Lupin; I don't trust his werewolf."

Harry opened yet another book this time from Neville Longbottom, _The Whomping Willow and Other Violent Plants: A guide to protecting yourself and your possessions_ by Pomona Sprout. This might prove to be the most useful of all the books he'd gotten for Christmas... though others might have been offended by Neville's lack of tact. "But he takes Wolfsbane Potion."

"Accidents happen and I'm never one to be caught flatfooted."

"Doesn't silver repel them?" Harry said as he opened another lumpy package. It was his Spellfast cloak! He lifted the cloak and could not see where they had repaired the giant gash in it. A piece of parchment fluttered down and had five spells written onto it in Snape's handwriting: Absorption, Alerting, Notice-Me-Not, Repellant, and Durable Charms. The Death Eater hadn't simply repaired it then. He'd bought a new set and reapplied new charms! Harry guessed why Snape had chosen the Durable Charm over the Quietening Charm. So that the cloak would resist physical damage to itself.

"Actually, no…"

"No? Why not?" Harry prompted, but when Theodore didn't say anything he asked, "Then why would you buy silver bangles?"

"Silver and dittany ensures that I survive a werewolf attack." Theodore peered at the bottom of Harry's pile of presents.

Harry visibly shuddered. "Professor Lupin, wouldn't—"

"What's that?" His friend interrupted, pointing.

He had just opened a package of green and silver socks, which were the softest he'd ever touched, from Professor Dumbledore. He looked at what Theodore was talking about at the bottom of the pile of Christmas presents. Whatever it was had a long, thin wrapped part sticking out… Suddenly excited, Harry quickly moved the other presents to the side and ripped the parcel open. He gasped as a magnificent gleaming broomstick rolled out onto the floor.

Theodore leaned over heavily. "Bloody hell, it's a…"

"A Firebolt," Harry breathed out reverentially.

It was beautiful, even better than the poster Harry still had rolled up in his trunk. Its handle glittered a reddish gold as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let it go gently; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it?" Theodore asked. "Draco?"

"See if there's a card," Harry told him, running his hand up and down the super-smooth handle.

Theodore picked through the Firebolt's ripped gift wrapping. "There's nothing, Harry. And Draco would have given you a card."

"Well," Harry said completely stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't Professor Lupin."

"What about the headmaster or Professor Snape?"

"Professor Dumbledore gave me those." Harry pointed at the socks he'd abandoned on the floor in his haste to open the broomstick-shaped package. "And Snape gave me a new Spellfast cloak."

Theodore inspected the broomstick suspiciously. "That's odd. To receive a gift like this anonymously, I'd worry about it being jinxed."

Harry's hand pulled back from the broomstick as if burned. It would just be his luck too.

"You should have Professor Snape—"

"Not him!" Harry hissed.

Theodore gave him a very perplexed expression. "… _whoever_ looks at it, you shouldn't let anyone ride it until it's been properly looked over."

Harry sat down again, and the broomstick drifted to the floor to lie next to him. "Let's finish unwrapping our presents and get to lunch."

It wasn't long before they were done. Theodore vanished the gift wrapping and Harry took stock of all that he had received. Even Ginny had sent him a book. It was on stress management fundamentals. Harry felt a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought to get her anything. "_Seven_ books. I think that's a bit much, isn't it?"

"If only they knew you'd be happy with a pair of socks," Theodore quipped.

After dressing in trousers and a shirt, Harry put on his new socks and the green knitted jumper—much to Theodore's mock-horror and laughter. Picking up the broom and toeing on his Dragon-hide boots, Harry headed downstairs to the common room and then upstairs for Christmas lunch. Harry had deliberately left the Spellfast Cloak in his room.

They found that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table was set for thirteen. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there along with Filch, who had taken off his usual brown coat. Beneath it was a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There was an extremely nervous-looking first year Gryffindor, the sullen-faced Slytherin Prefect Ivan Renshaw, Ron, Hermione, and Sally-Anne.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore said as Harry and Theodore approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables… Oh and thank you for the wonderful pair of socks, Harry!"

"You're welcome, sir." Harry's eyes flicked to Snape's, who hadn't missed the broomstick in his hand. Harry looked to the Charms professor seated between Snape and Professor McGonagall. "Professor Flitwick, I received this Firebolt anonymously. Theodore suggested I get it checked out by someone."

"Oh dear me!" the professor said, hopping off his chair to inspect the broom. "I'll take that, Mr. Potter. It is very responsible of you to turn it over to us so quickly. I will return this as soon as I verify that it is free of any malicious magic since I know you must really want to fly it."

"Of course, sir," Harry said, offering the broom to the short professor who seemed breathless with anticipation.

Professor Flitwick took it with the utmost care, excused himself, and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

"Have a seat," the headmaster said lightly, which Harry really understood as an order.

Harry and Theodore both took seats near Sally-Anne, who thanked Harry for the book on magical creatures that spent their time primarily in the water. Harry and Theodore thanked her for the gifts she'd sent them. Ron was wearing a maroon knitted jumper which somewhat matched Harry's, and on Hermione's shirt was a Dictum Pin. Harry had thought something of the like would suit her perfectly.

In the background, Harry could hear the professors speak amiably to one another about how excited Filius appeared to be.

"Thank you for the book, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you for the Dictum Pin. I'll make good use of it, especially when I'm too tired to concentrate. I'll be able to re-listen to the lectures with the recordings!"

"Like you need something else to help you study, Hermione," Ron complained and then did a double-take at Harry's attire. "You're… My mum… _sent you a jumper_?"

"Yes, and I like it. It matches the socks the headmaster gave me." Harry lifted his trousers to him. Poor Ron was speechless.

"Crackers!" Professor Dumbledore enthusiastically offered the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

When Snape's mouth thinned in displeasure, Harry was the only student who laughed—some of the others exchanged knowing grins—but Theodore cut Harry short with a well-placed elbow to his ribs. Scowling at him, Harry rubbed his side. Theodore gave him a stern look, eyes flicking to Snape. Harry wasn't really that frightened of the Potions Master.

Having ignored Harry, the greasy-haired git pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once, much to Snape's disgust.

"Dig in!" The headmaster advised the table at-large, beaming around.

As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was the bushy-haired professor with exceedingly thick glasses. She glided towards them as if on wheels. She had a green-sequined dress on in honor of the occasion, making her look like an over-sized shiny dragonfly.

"Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!" The headmaster stood up to greet her.

"I have been crystal gazing, headmaster," the professor said in a misty, faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you."

"What's her name again?" Harry asked Theodore, having noticed the look of contempt on Hermione's face. She must not like the Divination professor.

"Professor Trelawney."

"Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate?" The adult continued at her plodding rate, "I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness."

"Certainly, certainly, since Filius is currently indisposed, I doubt he'll mind if you take his place," Professor Dumbledore said congenially, gesturing to the chair between Professors Snape and McGonagall.

Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream. "Filius dined among you thirteen and now he will be the first to die!"

Harry nearly choked on his food. Theodore thumped him on the back, and Harry had to drink some pumpkin juice so he might stop coughing.

"Now, Sibyll," Professor McGonagall said evenly, "He left before we began to eat."

"I dare not join the table, headmaster, for then we shall be thirteen again! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first die!"

"We'll risk it, Sibyll," Professor McGonagall said impatiently. "Do sit down; the turkey's getting stone cold."

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut, mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen. "Tripe, Sibyll?"

Harry was very glad he had decided not to take Divination, and now hearing her name he was interested in reading the book of death omens; he might actually get a good laugh out of it.

Professor Trelawney did not respond to the Deputy Headmistress. Instead, she looked around once more. "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," the headmaster answered, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

It wasn't every Christmas that there was a full moon.

"But surely you already knew that?" Professor Snape asked her, a single dark eyebrow raised. It looked like neither Professor Sprout nor Filch had any desire to join in on the conversation.

Professor Trelawney gave Snape a very cold look.

"Certainly I knew, Severus," she said quietly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

He scowled and took another bite of his tripe.

"That explains a great deal," Professor McGonagall said dryly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—"

"Imagine that," the Deputy Headmistress said scathingly.

"I doubt," the headmaster said in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to the two professors' combined efforts to insult Professor Trelawney's Divination skills, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, headmaster," Snape answered without a hint of resentment.

"Good. Then he should be up and about in no time… Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Professor Dumbledore and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Harry and his friends chatted about inane things like normal people. He thought it was going to be completely uneventful, since Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas lunch, two hours later.

Full to bursting with food and wearing a party hat that Theodore had stuck to his head, Harry stood up from the table. The Divination Professor shrieked loud enough to wake the dead, "My dear! You'll be the first to die!"

"Probably," Harry said with the grimmest tone he could muster. His classmates all winced instead of laughing like he expected, and everyone had stilled. "I'm kidding, of course," Harry told them. Still, nobody laughed.

Professor Trelawney's eyes opened dramatically, but before she could say anything else, Professor McGonagall said coldly, "Unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to the entrance hall, I highly doubt Mr. Potter is about to die."

"Wait a moment, I'll check." Harry trotted over to the doors and stuck his head into the next room. "The entrance hall is devoid of any axe-men as far as I can tell, Professor McGonagall," he announced for everyone to hear.

That got laughter from Ron and Theodore and a smattering of chuckles from everyone else, except Snape.

"Potter, mind your attitude," came the sharp rebuke.

"Yes, sir," Harry said grudgingly. At least, Theodore and Sally-Anne had arrived by his side, so they could leave.

Harry had many thank-you cards to write. He hoped that his gifts had been well received by everyone else gone on holiday.


	15. A Founder's Portrait

**_Author's Notes: _**_I hope you all appreciate the effort I took to learn a little Old English and Old French. The grammar is all weird. It's not precisely Old English grammar that's being translated because I wanted it to be readable without giving people too much of a headache. Have fun.__  
_

* * *

Every day that Harry spoke to Draco through the mirror, their conversations seemed to shorten bit by bit. Draco kept asking for more time and Harry was growing impatient with him. The night before Draco was due back to Hogwarts he admitted that he could only delay the Committee's hearing.

Harry told him, "I don't want Buckbeak's hearing _delayed_; I want a stay of execution. If you can't do that, the deal's off."

Draco's expression went carefully blank and then he nodded, disappearing from the mirror without another word. Closing the compact, Harry sighed. He understood it had to be hard to deal with a powerful man like Lucius Malfoy, but they were running out of time. Harry had a feeling that Draco was the only one who could stop the hearing. Buckbeak didn't deserve to die for acting on his instincts.

Harry never found Sirius Black on the Marauder's Map, but he did discover from reading the book Neville gave him that the Whomping Willow had an interesting feature. Somewhere on it was a knot that if tapped would paralyze it. Unfortunately, Stunning it wouldn't render the tree paralyzed. Most magical gardeners would use a very long Unbreakable pole to do the deed, and since Whomping Willows were generally pruned to chest height that made sense.

Harry went outside on walks with Theodore to observe the shifting Whomping Willow. Harry didn't think using a long pole would work given that the tree was perfectly capable of snagging it to drag him along with it. How else would he get close enough to touch the knots to find the right one? If he levitated something, the Whomping Willow would flick it out of the air like the bluebirds that got too close during the warmer months.

"What are you thinking about? Revenge?"

Blinking out of his thoughts, Harry gave Theodore a strange look. "Who?" At Theodore's gesture, Harry laughed. "What, revenge on a tree? _Why_?"

"For bludgeoning you last year and for destroying your broom."

Harry shook his head. "There wouldn't be any point in it. It'd be like saying all spiders should be killed because you were bitten by one."

"_Ah_," Theodore said.

"What?"

"You're more forgiving than me. I'm not fond of things that try to kill me."

"Me neither, but it's the intent that's important. Buckbeak and the Whomping Willow don't go out of their way to kill things for fun of it. It's a defensive mechanism."

"Ah. Alright, I think I see your point." Theodore grinned with a chuckle.

Giving him a look, Harry huffed. "Yes? What've I said now?"

"You keep surprising me is all. You're so... _nice_. Makes me want to be like that too."

"You're already _nice_."

Theodore grinned. "That just means you've already rubbed off on me, see?"

Walking into the cool breeze that would lead him back into the castle, Harry shook his head. As much as they got along, it was the small conversations like these that reminded him that his thinking style was different from others. Though... it was a little heartening to know that Theodore was already nicer because of him. Then again his friend could just be saying that.

Two days later, classes started again. The flobberworms had apparently died of overeating; instead, they had fire salamanders to care for. They spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs.

The first Arithmancy lesson of the term was much less fun; trigonometry was turning out to be much more complex than Harry had imagined. They learned about the polar graph and the difference between radians and degrees among lots of tedious formulas that he had to memorize.

The next day after Charms class, Professor Flitwick informed Harry that it would take longer than he anticipated even with Madam Hooch's assistance to finish checking the Firebolt. Harry assured him that he was in no hurry to get it back, since he'd been benched for the rest of the season. The diminutive professor had beamed at him. Harry hoped that the professor was meticulously reverse-engineering it so he could carefully re-apply each charm correctly. He didn't want a dud broom.

Transfigurations had moved on to turning jewelry boxes into turtles. Harry had never found anything as impossible as that. Sally-Anne was the first to get it done, swiftly followed by Draco.

"You know, it helps to think that the object was always something living to start off with," Sally-Anne suggested.

Harry only succeeded in turning the box into a turtle shell. He sighed. Charms was easy compared to this. Why was Transfiguring becoming so difficult for him? It had to be something he was doing wrong…

The next day was yet another boring lecture by Professor Binns about goblin rebellions. In Astronomy, there was in-depth learning about rising and descending stars and planets, zeniths, how to measure positive and negative aspects, and the like. Then Thursday was Potions and Study of Ancient Runes, both classes Harry wasn't fond of, but he managed to leave both unscathed.

Friday morning the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson on stumping a shadow-thief was very interesting to say the least. Simply having one's shadow choke the thief seemed to do the trick of scaring it off. Inside the protective warding holding the shadow thief in, they'd each taken a turn in front of a large bright light, miming the action.

Harry was keen for the lesson to be over because he wanted to ask after the tutoring he and Theodore were promised.

"Ah, yes," Lupin said after class when Harry broached the topic, "Let me see… how about eight o'clock this evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough… And that should be long enough time to find another boggart."

Once Harry had left the classroom, Theodore and Sally-Anne walked with him to lunch. Professor Lupin was ahead of them, waving when other students greeted him. When the trio passed a group of Gryffindors, who had just left a Herbology class by the smell of them, Harry heard Ron asking Neville, "Professor Lupin's always getting ill. What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

Hermione had tutted very loudly, holding a large bag so stuffed with books that it made Harry wonder exactly how many books were in there to overcome the Extendable Charm that had to be on it. Harry stopped, curious about their conversation.

"What are you tutting at me for?" Ron asked irritably.

"Nothing," Hermione said, moving to go into the Great Hall.

"Yes, you were. I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin and you—"

"Well, isn't it _obvious_?" Hermione said with a superior tone Harry would have thought suited Draco better.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," Ron snapped.

"Fine." Hermione disappeared into the Great Hall.

"She doesn't _really_ know; she's just trying to get me to talk to her again," Ron told Neville sullenly. Harry was unsurprised to hear that Ron and Hermione had yet another fight.

Theodore exchanged a look with Harry. What was really important about the overheard conversation was that Hermione knew that Professor Lupin was a werewolf. Not for the first time, Harry wondered why Snape had taught that lesson to the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. They weren't _all_ stupid. Even worse, the Hufflepuffs were generally inclined to the Terra Arts which meant they'd be more likely to notice the lunar cycle than the other houses... Then again, Hufflepuffs were also a fiercely protective and loyal lot. Even if they discovered Professor Lupin's secret, they might not say a word about it because he was a good teacher and very polite. However, what would the Hufflepuffs do with that knowledge...? They would certainly prepare themselves if anything were to go wrong with their DADA instructor. Perhaps stock up on silver and dittany as Theodore had.

"What do you know that I don't?" Sally-Anne asked, looking put-off by Harry and Theodore's silent communication.

"I'll have to tell you once the term is over," Theodore answered. "It isn't something you'd want to discuss even behind a Silencing Ward."

"You know something that sensitive…?" She scowled, hmph-ing. "If that ever changes, you had better tell me."

Harry's roommate chuckled and promised to do just that.

* * *

The tutoring lesson with Professor Lupin went rather well. Harry insisted that Theodore practice first since Harry thought it'd be useless if he ended up passing out again before his friend had a turn. Of course, Harry had to be closer to the boggart for Theodore to cast a Patronus.

It only took Theodore four more tries before an incorporeal Patronus burst from the end of his wand with an avian scream; a large falcon dove at the fake dementor, sharp talons forward, crowding it back into the suitcase. Harry had been very relieved to see the Dark creature shut up again. He'd had to listen to the sounds of screaming in his mind for the scant seconds it took for Theodore to cast.

"Very, very good, Nott!"

Theodore flourished his wand with a bow.

"Have another piece of chocolate, Harry, you're looking peaky." Professor Lupin gave him another small bar, and Harry unwrapped it and took a large bite. "We can postpone this for later, if you'd like."

Harry shook his head. He wrapped what was left of the chocolate and set the package down. "No, I need to do this."

Theodore gave him a concerned look, but he nodded in agreement.

"All right then…" Professor Lupin sounded defeated, yet lifted his wand to pop the suitcase open. "Concentrate firmly on your happy memory and have your wand at the ready."

Harry's hands were already sweating. He furiously thought about how happy he was to have a family that wouldn't abandon him or betray him. He lifted his wand and nodded at the professor.

A flick of the wand and the History of Magic classroom went icily cold and dark once more. The dementor glided forward, drawing its rattling breath; a rotting hand was extending toward Harry, grasping—

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Harry shouted over his parents' screams.

A huge, silvery shadow surged from Harry's wand and then faded like mist, leaving him defenseless.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ He tried again as his legs shook beneath him from sudden fatigue. Only faint wisps this time, and the cold and the emptiness were sinking deeper into his chest. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" He yelled.

Sound had been sucked out of the room; he no longer felt his fingers as his vision became obscured. Blurred, moving shapes came into focus.

_His father's panicked face came into view, causing Harry to bawl, and then Harry was shoved into his mother's arms, who looked terrified._

_"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"_

_His mother took him from that room into the dark hallway. There was the sound of an explosion—a cackle of high-pitched laughter—his father's war cry, an ensuing volley of red, blue, and green light flaring—and "Avada Kedavra!"_ _A green light flashed into the room his mother had run to. She slammed the door shut behind her, spelling a complicated Magical lock on it._

_"Shh, dear Harry," she told him her face streaked with tears, placing him down very gently into the crib. "Harry, you are so loved. So loved. Mama loves you. Dada loves you. Be safe… Be strong…"_

_The door crackled apart in a spray of sparks and splinters, and Harry saw his mother spin to face who had entered._

_"I am feeling merciful tonight," a nasal voice proclaimed. "Stand aside."_

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please—!"_

"Harry!" Theodore's voice was distant. "Harry, wake up!"

Someone was lightly slapping his cheeks. It was a minute before Harry understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor.

"My dad… told her to run… tried to take on Voldemort himself… My mum knew she wouldn't be able to escape… She spent her last moments telling me how much she loved me..."

Theodore's hands squeezed his shoulders.

There were tears on Harry's face mingling with sweat.

"You heard them again?" Professor Lupin said in a strange voice.

"Listen, Harry—you should take a break," Theodore said, peering down at him worriedly.

"I want another go." Harry stubbornly pushed the hands off his shoulders and sat up.

"No, Nott is right. You've had enough for one night." Professor Lupin's smile was a bit wan. "If I have to take you to the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey will be after my head!"

Theodore handed Harry chocolate, and he chomped on it hungrily.

"Same time next week?" Professor Lupin looked at the both of them.

The two boys nodded somberly. As Theodore helped Harry to stand, a thought came to Harry. This would be the perfect opportunity to ask questions. "Professor Lupin?" The kind professor turned to him attentively. "If you knew my dad and mum, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

Lupin froze, and then his joints seemed to thaw. "What gives you that idea?"

"Well, why else would Black be made my godfather if he wasn't good friends with my parents?" Harry trailed off. Theodore also seemed suspicious.

The professor's face relaxed, and he nodded. "I knew him," he said with a sharpness Harry had never heard before from him, "Or I thought I did. You'd both better be off. It's getting late and I don't wish for your Head of House to reprimand me for keeping two of his students out after curfew."

With that dismissal, Harry and Theodore left. Once they'd passed through enough corridors, Harry asked, "I wonder how close they were?"

"Judging how he clammed up, likely very close. Must've been a nasty shock to learn that his friend was capable of such senseless violence." Theodore looked pointedly at the chocolate remaining in Harry's hand.

Still feeling empty, Harry crammed the last bit of it into his mouth as they headed down into the Slytherin dungeons. He kept his doubts about Black's guilt to himself, though it surprised him that Draco hadn't saw fit to inform Theodore about them. Draco was likely keeping his cards as close as Harry was.

* * *

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week later. Harry attempted to sit with Hermione and Neville, but failed when his housemates saw fit to bully everyone out of the stands. It nearly started a riot until Harry apologized to the Gryffindors and left the way he'd come. His excitement soured, Harry thought Draco had taken long enough to find the Snitch. In his Spellfast cloak, Harry had spent a good two and a half hours in the damp, blustery cold watching as the stand of green around him cheered for the Slytherin team.

Late February faded imperceptibly into March, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. Harry still hadn't received his Firebolt; he wondered if Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch had found a nasty spell or curse laid into it, but whenever he asked the Charms professor told him that it was taking longer than expected and nothing else.

To make matters worse, Harry's extra lessons with Professor Lupin hadn't shown any improvement in his ability to successfully cast a Patronus in the presence of a pseudo-dementor. Meanwhile, Theodore's glowing white falcon was looking more and more opaque each time he cast it.

Harry tried not to feel envious. His Patronus was indistinct and shadowy, too feeble to drive a dementor away, instead of the magnificent creature with a full set of antlers he knew it could be. All the ectoplastic proto-Patronus did was hover like a semi-transparent cloud draining him of energy as Harry fought to keep it there, fought to keep his memories happy. Harry knew why he was having trouble; he could not perform a correct Patronus charm so long as he half-wanted to hear the echoes of his parents' last attempts to protect him.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," Professor Lupin said sternly. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a feat."

Harry nodded his head towards Theodore. "He did it."

"Nott has been raised from a very young age to defend himself against Dark creatures. There's perhaps other subjects that come to you more readily than to him, isn't there?" Professor Lupin said kindly.

"Half the time I'm completely useless in Charms class, and I don't have near the physical stamina on a broom for an extended Quidditch game," Theodore said wryly.

It was true. Harry had seen Theodore struggle with Charms...

"And you no longer faint in the boggart's presence, which I think is a remarkable achievement." Professor Lupin reached into his tatty briefcase. "Which is why I think this calls for a reward for your efforts—something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before, I believe…"

"Butterbeer!" Harry cheered when he saw the bottles. "Yeah, I like it."

Professor Lupin raised an eyebrow, handing the bottles out to them.

"Harry's been to Hogsmeade once before. For an eventful twelfth birthday that ended with him being grounded for a month by Professor Snape," Theodore said with a grin.

Harry huffed. "It's not my fault that Dobby—he's a house-elf—" Harry explained to Professor Lupin, "framed me for using magic outside of school!"

"Oh, yes, Severus told me about that but didn't give me any details," Professor Lupin said with a wistful tone, opening his own bottle and taking a sip. Almost immediately a frown settled on his face.

"Something on your mind, sir?" Theodore asked after taking a large gulp.

"Oh no," the professor said mostly to himself and then he shook his head, wrapping his hands around the open bottle. "… Alright. Maybe I read something in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning."

"About the Ministry authorizing the dementors to give Sirius Black the Kiss, sir…?"

Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of Black getting his soul sucked out of him when there were still unanswered questions about what had happened on that last day of October in 1981.

Professor Lupin looked very grave and drank a little more of the Butterbeer.

"Do you think he did it, professor?" Harry asked, unable to drink any more as his stomach turned.

"He claimed he didn't. Said he was framed… Said it was Peter Pettigrew who'd become Lily and James' Secret-Keeper and that it was Peter who had betrayed them." Professor Lupin's grey eyes went distant. "But Dumbledore himself told the court that Sirius was to be their Secret-Keeper… and all that was left of Peter was—"

"A finger," Harry and Theodore interrupted him.

Professor Lupin sighed. "Yes. Without Peter Pettigrew to provide his side of the story, the evidence weighed too heavily against Black. I imagined he lied about what he'd done to try to get out of being sentenced to Azkaban."

It sounded rather sensible to Harry... to lie so you didn't rot in a horrible prison filled with creatures that ate your happiness.

"Then why didn't he lie about being under a spell?" Theodore asked abruptly.

"I knew Black could shake off the Imperius Curse, so he couldn't say that he'd been under Voldemort's control."

Harry recognized the name of that curse; it was one of the three Unforgivable curses… Anyone caught using any of them was sent straight to Azkaban.

"I apologize. This topic is too dark for two third years to ruminate over." Professor Lupin stood up. "It's getting late. I'll see you two weeks from now."

The both of them nodded in understanding. It would be too dangerous to continue the lessons after dark so close to the full moon. They had already postponed them for a few days two previous times since they had started in January.

"Thank you, professor," Harry said.

"Don't forget your potion, either," Theodore said, "I rather think you're a fantastic Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It'd be a shame to see you get sacked."

Professor Lupin's smile was wan. "Goodnight to the both of you. Hurry along now!"

Setting the Butterbeer bottles down, the teens rushed to the dungeons and passed through the portrait hole into the common room.

"Potter!" A peeved voice rang out from the office.

Harry's spirits drooped as he wondered what he'd done wrong now. "See you upstairs, Theo."

His roommate nodded and continued on.

Turning into Snape's office, Harry crossed his arms. "Yes, sir?"

"You have a secret admirer," he drawled nastily from his standing position. He gestured to the magnificent broom lying on his expansive desk. "There was nothing discovered to be amiss with it."

Forgetting his anger at the Death Eater, Harry's hands dropped to his side; he wanted nothing more but to hold the Firebolt in his hands once again. Then, sense came back to him and he warily looked at the greasy-haired git. "Secret admirer?"

"You idiot boy, why else would someone generously gift you something as expensive as this _anonymously_? It appears your felonious godfather is attempting to lure you out of the castle by lowering your guard."

Harry's response was caught in his throat at the surge of happiness. He wondered whether the escapee had seen his performance as Seeker during the first Slytherin match or not.

"Of course, I would _delight_ in withholding a possession of yours that brings you such blithe joy, but it appears your friendship with the headmaster has earned you certain… _privileges_."

A smile erupted onto Harry's face, and he snatched the broom from Snape's desk. "Am I dismissed, sir?"

"Wipe that smirk off of your face, _Potter_. I never explained the terms."

"Terms of what, sir?" Harry said as his lips curled into growing bitterness.

"Until the dementors have left Hogwarts grounds, you are not to ride your broom. Doing so will result in—"

"You're saying I can keep the Firebolt, but I can't use it as it was meant to be used?!"

A nasty smile appeared on the sallow-colored face, and the adult's eyes glittered meanly. "Oh, yes. Poor Poppy has tended to you enough this year. You ought to quit acting so selfishly and think about others for a change."

"You're calling _me_ selfish!?" Harry said outraged. "_You greasy-haired, hook-nosed git_—"

"Tut, tut, Potter. I see you owe me another _detention_," Snape said, his yellowed, uneven teeth bared. "I expect you tomorrow morning."

"But tomorrow's the match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!" If he couldn't play, he wanted to at least _watch_ the games!

"In my office at ten o'clock sharp."

Harry sent Snape a baleful look when he felt a niggling sensation and immediately wished the adult's head would explode where he sat.

Snape chuckled. "So _infantile_. I suppose I could assign another detention…"

"I'll see you tomorrow, sir," Harry said, grinding his teeth.

Long, too-pale fingers flicked towards the door.

Harry turned abruptly, storming out of the office. Ignoring the looks of pure jealousy from his housemates that were directed at the Firebolt in his hands, Harry gnashed his teeth as he jogged up the stairs to the third-year dormitory. He slammed the door open, and it banged against the wall.

"You got it back!" Theodore crowed from his bed, setting his _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms _book down.

Draco's head jerked up from his desk and immediately came to take a closer look, reaching Harry's side before Theodore. "May I?" He held out a hand. Harry had never seen Draco ask for something so politely without a note of syrupiness to it.

Still angry at Snape and irritated that none of them had bothered to ask, Harry wordlessly handed it over and headed to his wardrobe unclasping his Spellfast cloak to hang it up.

"The balance is phenomenal," Draco murmured, letting the broom go to float in front of him at just the perfect height for him. Theodore's gaze was fixed on the golden-red hued broom as were Crabbe's and Goyle's. Harry didn't know what to think of Draco's comment; he sounded as if he'd never touched a Firebolt before, which was simply ridiculous.

After taking off his dragon-hide boots, Harry opened his trunk. Suddenly he realized why Snape would allow Harry to keep a broom he couldn't fly. "Draco, did you ever hear back from your father?"

"I should have an owl any time now with his decision…" Draco said absently. "I won't know if the hearing's cancelled until then."

Pulling out the Broom Servicing Kit, Harry closed the trunk lid and put the bag on top. He unzipped it and took out Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish which sat next to a very dog-eared book on broom care. "I hope you get word back so you have time to fly it before the end of term."

"You think I'd spend a favor on this?"

"Look at how you're holding it," Harry said with a chiding tone.

Draco blinked owlishly at his hand and relaxed the tight-knuckled grip he'd had on the broomstick.

"Now, may I have it back? I've wanted to polish it since I received it."

With a terrible sigh, the broom was returned to Harry, and the teen spent an hour polishing it. The bristles at the end of it were already immaculate and required no trimming. Afterward he placed it on top of his trunk not wanting to dirty it by putting it on the floor or bend the tail-bristles by storing it in the wardrobe. Harry changed his clothes and crawled into bed, closing the curtains until no cheery glow came in.

When Harry could hear that everyone had fallen asleep, he took out the pouch and pulled out the Marauder's Map. He tapped it and whispered the incantation and then cast "_Lumos"_. He spent all night watching the goings-on in the corridors, how Filch and Mrs. Norris met up on the hour, how the ghosts, excepting the Grey Lady and Peeves, often stayed clustered together in the farthest, deepest, and chilliest corner of the dungeons, how the greasy-haired git prowled the third-floor corridor while several prefects lurked in other areas of the castle.

And then… Harry saw something very unusual: Peter Pettigrew's name floating by feet that waddled and scurried about in a zigzag pattern. His very first thought was that he was seeing things as he'd been looking at the map for what seemed like hours. He closed his eyes and reopened them. The name of the dead man hadn't disappeared. Pettigrew was very slowly scaling the stairs towards the Divination classroom in the Astronomy tower.

Oh, how Harry wished he had his Invisibility Cloak! With it he could have immediately squashed his curiosity and solved the mystery. He frowned. Should he alert the headmaster? … But that would require showing him the map, and Harry was very certain that it would be confiscated if he did that.

And the map was old. It could very well be malfunctioning.

Harry continued watching the shuffling footsteps, until his eyes were too heavy to keep open.

* * *

"It's a great day for a Quidditch match!" Theodore's voice cried out boisterously.

Harry started, wiping the drool off of his face. He cancelled the Lighting spell.

"Shh!"

"He's not awake yet?" Theodore said more quietly after Draco's loud shush.

Seeing the map was still active, Harry tapped it and whispered, "_Mischief Managed_." Before the ink had disappeared completely, he shoved it into the tiny pouch next to him.

The curtains were yanked back suddenly, and Harry lifted his hand as he winced in the light, protectively cupping the pouch in his other. "What time is it?"

"Nine, and you need to stop emulating an owl," Draco said.

"You missed the work-out," Theodore said congenially.

"And breakfast," Goyle grunted, his thick eyebrows drawn down in concentration as he squinted at the schoolbook in his hands. Crabbe was thumbing through the glossy pages of a new magazine with more moving pictures of half-naked witches and wizards.

Harry knew that skipping breakfast meant he'd gotten another detention. He gathered clean clothes to take to the communal bathroom downstairs. "I'll head to the kitchens after I shower then."

Pouch still in hand beneath the fresh clothes, he tramped down the stairs, Theodore trailing after him.

Once Harry had cleaned up, he and Theodore traveled to the kitchens. Harry showed Theodore how to enter the kitchens; his fellow Slytherin amused himself by inspecting the decorative plates, while Harry ate as much as he could.

"Detention?" Theodore asked when Harry said he wasn't going to the match. "What'd you do? He only talked to you for ten minutes!"

"I called him something I shouldn't have," Harry grumbled, tearing into the red apple in his hand.

"Why're you and him on such bad terms now?"

Harry took another loud chomp. His chest hurt when he thought about it.

"Not going to tell your best mate?"

Swallowing the mush of apple, Harry scowled and settled on telling him a lie instead of the truth. "I found out that he's only been nice to me to turn me over to Voldemort later. The moment I accused him of it, he showed his true form: a nasty, mean bully who only cares about his own skin."

"Well," Theodore said after a long pause. "Good thing you found that out _now_ before you got too attached to him."

Harry's eyes burned, and the world blurred around him. That would have been too kind. He shoved a bread roll into his mouth and ripped his teeth into it, ignoring how hot his face became. It was his own fault for getting attached to a Death Eater.

"Oh… Bit of a nasty shock, was it?" Theodore said more gently.

"_I_ _trusted_ _him_." Rubbing his robe sleeve across his face, Harry sniffed angrily. "And I shouldn't have. The warning signs were all there. He doesn't like brats. He's loyal to the headmaster. He never once expressed paternal warmth. So, really, it's my own fault for _assuming_."

Theodore placed a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezed without saying another word.

Harry swallowed. "And, I didn't want to see them—his chess plays. I was never his son; I'm nothing but a-a _pawn _to him." He pressed his forehead against the top of his crossed arms on the table. When the tears came, they moved silently. His uneven breathing was the only indication that anything was wrong, and he wanted it that way. Theodore didn't make a fuss or say a word about it, which was a nice change. Instead, he talked about the different sorts of people he met during his travels, until Harry laughed. Once Harry had gotten control of himself the comforting hand disappeared. Harry took a great breath and blew his nose into the cloth napkin that had been provided with his meal. He felt drained, and he didn't want to serve out his detention with that bastard.

"So," Theodore started again without looking at him, "The odds are in Gryffindors' favor ten to one; I always root for the Dark Horse so I placed my money on Hufflepuff winning."

Eyes itchy, Harry smiled. "You're going to lose your wager. The only team, who gets as sore about losing as us, is the Gryffindors. Flint says that the Gryffindor Captain's desperate to win this year since he'll be gone next."

"Says _you_," Theodore said, more characteristically himself now. "You've never mentioned that you had any second-sighted abilities. And if you had kept them a secret, I doubt you'd get into as much trouble as you do now."

Harry countered, "You're just jealous that you don't lead a highly adventurous and interesting life."

"No thank you. I've had such a life before entering school, and I find I really enjoy my peaceful existence here. And after meeting you I'd only ever wish your life on my worst enemies," Theodore retorted. "Haunted by the vengeful spirit of the scariest Dark Lord in this century? Fighting basilisks and possessing Dark artifacts? And now you're attracting dementors. You, Harry, are incredibly unlucky."

Harry burst into unexpected laughter. It did seem quite awful when put that way. With a much lighter heart—and Theodore's quickly spelled, gentle Cleaning charm—a fresh-faced Harry returned to the common room with his best friend. "Have fun watching the match, Theo."

"I'll tell you everything about it play-by-play!" The taller teen jogged down the empty corridor.

Harry entered Snape's office through the door which had been left ajar. When he looked around and did not see him, Harry drew his wand and cast "_Homenum Revelio!_", which was a spell he'd learned and practiced many times from the Viridian Vindictus books before he got it just right. It appeared that no one else was in the room with him. That bastard must have stepped out…

Harry grinned wickedly and darted to the nearest shelf, looking past the grisly jars of pickled specimens for any sign of hidden doors, cabinets, or anything else that might be of interest. Disappointingly, there was nothing. Harry darted into the small adjacent closet, lighting the sconces with magic. He began to dig through the books and parchments, lying on the crowded shelves.

He didn't expect that Snape had left his Invisibility Cloak lying about, but it didn't hurt to check. Keeping an eye on the time by casting "_Tempus!_" now and then, Harry was half-way through the storage room when he found a dusty transparent green stone at the back of one of Snape's bookcases in the corner.

Reaching for it, Harry lightly touched it and realized it was the emerald eye of a serpent which had been engraved into the wall. Thinking no harm would come of it, Harry whispered, "_Open_."

The emerald seemed to twinkle, but nothing happened. Harry frowned at the emerald… There had to be a different password!

_'If there's ever a password to use, the map will tell you all you need to know',_ the twins had told him.

With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he yanked open his pouch. _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

The map filled out within painfully long seconds.

Rapidly he flipped through it looking for Snape's name. The Slytherin Head of House did not appear to be anywhere near the Slytherin dungeons… nor was anyone else for that matter. Harry assumed the others had all gone to the Quidditch match. He flipped the parchment until he found Snape in the Headmaster's Study pacing as Dumbledore's feet remained stationary. It puzzled him as to why Snape would assign detention to Harry without any intention of showing up... or perhaps he had intended to but the headmaster had summoned him for a chat. Unsure about how much time he had left to search, Harry tugged the paper flaps down until he was shown to be in Slytherin's Office on the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared by his name and feet in strangely curled symbols, symbols that Harry had no trouble deciphering. "_Blood of my blood may open the way_," Harry hissed softly in Parseltongue to the emerald.

The entire bookcase swung inward causing Harry to jerk back uncertainly. Harry peered inside. The map declared the room as Slytherin's Personal Study now that a door had opened to it. That worried him because there had been basilisks in the Chamber of Secrets. Surely the Founder of his House would not put such a dangerous creature near the dormitories of children. Then again, you could never be too certain about these things.

"Hello?" His voice echoed beyond him. Sconces lit up next to him cheerily without the greenish tinge he was so used to seeing in the common room. Sensing no danger, Harry stepped inside, and the bookcase ground shut behind him.

The study was a large circular room that smelled of dust and cobwebs, musty with the undertone of stale air. He spun around in place, watching fire jump to life from empty sconces as his attention shifted. The vaulted ceiling was as high as the Great Hall's and all around him were shelves upon shelves of books with different levels of walkways. Across from him in the corner was an arsenal of swords and epees, training dummies and suits of armor. Harry stepped onto the magnificent grey rug stretched over the majority of the stone floor. In the center were silver and emerald threads that intricately detailed a large basilisk with its eyes closed. As Harry moved across the room, the great beast shifted unnervingly beside him. There were no windows here, but there were thick green curtains which separated sections of the room out from each other.

"Godne morgen," a slightly nasal voice startled Harry so soundly that he had spun around with his wand pointed.

There in front of him was a portrait of a bald-headed wizard with pale skin, piercing dark forest green eyes, and gaunt cheekbones. His beard was dark grey. Wearing a high-necked and, understandably, old-fashioned set of black robes, the great Salazar Slytherin looked contemptuously down his nose at Harry. "Sprikhst thoo Eng-li-sheh?" He said slowly.

Flushing, Harry re-holstered his wand. "Sorry," he said, "You startled me."

Around the Founder's neck was a necklace with an octagonal powder box attached to it. On its lid was a thick 'S' in the shape of a snake. "Voh par-ley Frahn-sei?"

Harry stared at him. "Er, sorry. My French is absolutely abysmal."

"_Welcome to this personal study, my Heir,"_ the severe-looking wizard said in Parseltongue.

"_Er, I'm not your Heir, Mr. Slytherin._"

Slytherin merely looked at Harry as if he had said something rather dim-witted. "_The age of you is what?"_

Harry flushed. "_Thirteen. I'll be fourteen in less than a year_."

The portrait made a thoughtful noise. "O_n proper nutrition, O__ne's theories __were proved right after all._"

"_Sorry?"_

"_Unimportant._" The man placed his hands together as if in prayer, except it was pointed towards the floor. "W_hen deemed ready,__ the secrets of the Dark Arts that have been accumulated will be provided._"

Harry grimaced at the mention of Dark Arts; he didn't particularly find them that useful unless you wanted to maim someone or raise Dark creatures for the purpose of getting ingredients. "Er_, I didn't come here expecting to meet you. I just found the serpent's eye on the bookcase in Snape's office—Snape's the Potions Master and my Head of House—and decided to see if it opened anything up."_

"_Curious." _Each of Slytherin's fingers ended in long fingernails that were sharpened to a point; Slytherin stroked the long beard on his chin, and then he stopped when his eyes had come upon Harry's forehead. "_That which is above your brow is what?"_

Self-consciously, Harry brought a hand up to the lightning-shaped scar. _"Someone tried to kill me when I was an infant_."

"_Come closer. Examination of the brow on which lays the curse-wound would be treasured knowledge,_" Slytherin's voice did not sound as if it were a request.

"_You want to look at it?"_

_"Yes."_

Seeing no harm in it, Harry stepped forward and brought the black fringe back. It was then that Harry saw that Salazar Slytherin's eyes were merely a shade darker than his own.

"_Survival of such curse happened how?_"

"_My mother sacrificed herself, so I might live. The Killing Curse rebounded back onto the caster_."

"F_rom Death's clutches a_n uncommon escape_._" Slytherin's eyes looked down. "_That which is in your hands is what?_"

Harry lifted the still-active Marauder's Map, seeing no harm in showing it to the portrait. "_I was given this by a couple of mischievous brothers._"

Slytherin's eyes widened slightly as he took in the details of the map. "_So, **you** are Harry Potter…"_

"Er_…You know me?_"

"_Destroyed Jinara, the basilisk which was gifted to you from the Great One,"_ the old wizard spat out, quite affronted.

"_It was **Petrifying** students."_

Slytherin exhaled slowly, stroking his beard again_. "Then a direct descendant you were not… since control was lacked."_

Harry clenched his jaw and looked down at the map. Snape was back in his office now, appearing to pace. "_I told you I wasn't your Heir_, _and someone else was controlling her._"

"_Oh?"_ Slytherin looked

_"_Lord Voldemort_."_

"_Lord Cheater of Death? Or Lord Vole of Death?"_

Imagining a bald, blunt-nosed rodent at the latter name, Harry let out a laugh at the surprising play on words and shook his head. "_He hates Muggles and wanted to murder the Muggle-born students_. _Even now he believes that Muggle-borns muddy the bloodlines and weaken the purebloods' magic._"

Salazar Slytherin snorted as if this were a ridiculous notion. _"Absolute codswallop._"

"Er_… but didn't you leave Hogwarts because you disagreed with Godric Gryffindor about Muggle-borns being taught here… because you thought that their blood was impure?_"

_"History tells of One's resignation in this way?"_ Slytherin shook his head his severe look growing more severe. "_Resigned for personal reasons. To refuse Magbobs was about the welfare of the rest of the students. B__ewildered __Magbobs often formed self-destructive habits from shift from a Mundane life to a Magical one, exacerbated by their subsequent abandonment by their frightened Mundane parents. Many talented students lost to stoning attacks, stake-burnings, and drownings. More gifted Magbob students, more murders by their own flesh and blood. To pick only from the Pure-blood families meant efforts to teach and mentor them would not be wasted."_

Harry was dismayed to hear the distant past spelled out so grimly. 'Magbob' was not a term he was familiar with but he could guess what it meant by context… "_…Things are much better, sir. Cases of child mistreatment are rare, and every Muggle-born I know was stunned to find out magic is real, and I haven't heard that their parents or guardians have tried to kill them. And there are spells now that can protect someone from projectiles, allow one to breathe under water, or stand in fire without it burning. And laws to prevent Muggles from learning about the Wizarding world, like the Statute of Secrecy, to protect both."_

_"So society has progressed beyond One's expectations..." _Salazar Slytherin looked at Harry peculiarly. "_Speak more of this Lord Vole of Death. Destroyed when the Killing Curse rebounded onto him… and yet to hear you speak it is as if he still lives."_

"_His spirit lived on… I don't know why, but my first year he possessed a teacher and attempted to kill me again and then last year there was a journal that contained a sixteen-year-old version of himself that attacked me."_

Slytherin's curious gaze turned dark with a sternness Harry had never seen before by anyone. _"A__ Dark Arts practitioner __Lord Vole of Death remains?"_

Nodding, Harry watched the ancient wizard bring a crooked hand to his beard once more.

"_Methods to restrain a spirit to the mortal plane are known… but it is that which is exceedingly Dark and corruptible to the caster."_ Slytherin nodded to himself. "_Yes,_ _Harry Potter's survival of Killing Curse is understood __and only partly because of mother's protection. Nevertheless, to hear that explanation __you are not ready__."_

"_You can't just do that!_" Harry complained, "_Say that you know how it happened and then refuse to tell me!"_

_"Young Potter. Who is it that knows the Darkest secrets of the Dark Arts?"_

_"Er… you do, sir?"_

_"And Potter's wish is to be told of how he has survived the Killing Curse?"_

_"Yes, sir…"_

_"Then speak not to One in such a manner again."_

_"I'm sorry, sir," _Harry said as his face reddened.

_"Forgiveness will be earned in time. Bring a lexicon and a grammar book of your language so discourse is in a language that doesn't twist One's mouth so." _

_"What is a lexicon?"_

Slytherin raised one of his thick, forked eyebrows that nearly kissed his temples. "_A book of words, the vocabulary of a given language._"

"_I'll bring a dictionary to you next chance I get."_

_"Then good day, young Potter." _The wizard bowed slightly, which Harry returned.

_"Goodbye, Mr. Slytherin_."

Without another word, the ancient wizard walked out of the frame.

With a deep breath of air, Harry let go of the tension in his shoulders and then inspected the map. That was a very odd conversation... Harry didn't think anyone would believe him if he claimed that Salazar Slytherin, according to his portrait, _wasn't_ a blood purist.

According to the map, Snape had remained in his office, but had stopped pacing. "Is there another way out?" He muttered to himself, walking along the walls.

Minutes later, a small speech bubble popped up to the far corner of the room, across from where he had first entered. The map showed that the secret passageway led straight to a dead-end corridor in the dungeons, and as far as Harry could tell no one was around.

"_Mischief Managed,_" Harry told the map with a tap of his wand, placing it back into the pouch. He then scanned the wall. He found nothing, but whispered in a hiss, _"The greatest knowledge is meaningless without integrity."_

The entire wall shifted to the right silently, leaving a small crevice wide enough for Harry to squeeze past. As soon as he was in the dank murkiness of the branch corridor, the wall closed behind him. Harry placed a hand on the dungeon wall next to him and followed the hall to the larger corridor.

When he re-entered the common room, Snape was standing at the bottom of the steps, glaring. "Potter, you've earned a month's worth of Independent Study."

Harry smothered the desire to smirk at his Head of House. "Yes, sir."

"I see you didn't take any time at all to leave," he drawled nastily.

Shrugging, Harry said, "Why should I wait longer than an hour in that smelly office for you?"

The Slytherin Head of House took in a deep breath. "...I expect you to stay in your dormitory until the match is over."

"Yes, sir." Harry calmly walked to the stairwell, surprised that the bastard seemed… _resigned_.

"And, Potter?"

Harry paused on the first step, his hand on the stone doorway.

"I will know the very moment you try to sneak out."

Without responding, Harry returned to his room. Instead of looking at the map for Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew, he brought his schoolbooks to his desk and began to finish the essays that were due that week.

* * *

_**Afterword: **Before anyone asks here are the phrases used. I did the phonetic spelling because Salazar Slytherin was speaking slowly. _

_Godne morgen. = Good morning._

_Sprikhst thoo Eng-li-sheh? = _Spricst þu Englisce? = Do you speak English?__

_Voh par-ley Frahn-sei? = Vos parle Fran_ç_eis? = Do you speak French?_


	16. The Reproving Werewolf

**_Author's Notes: _**_Having Salazar Slytherin show up was fun. He'll show up more, too. Also, I do not claim to be awesome at foreign languages so if you find something that is incorrect, let me know. Sorry for the late update. I was feeling a bit unwell yesterday._

* * *

It turned out that Prefect Dedworth was an anorak of languages, rumored to know at least thirty in all, including basic non-human ones and others without native speakers like Latin and Vedic Sanskrit. So of course she would have a Wizarding French-English dictionary and an attendant primer, lying about.

"Thank you," he told her, when she handed them to him after stepping off the steps to the girls' dormitory.

"Don't mention it, but if I might ask why the sudden interest in French?"

"I thought it might be useful if I ever move out of country. I heard it can be unpleasant if you leave without the common courtesy of knowing the basic phrases and words."

"Ah..." She paused for a moment, "Yes, national pride makes people a bit too shirty over the silliest things. Are you planning to visit France this summer?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It's a nice thought. I've never been out of country before."

"Well, if you need any help, just ask."

He smiled at her and then he went back to his room. Theodore was hard at work at his desk, while Crabbe and Goyle were playing Exploding Snap.

"Where have you _been_?!" Draco asked stalking towards him. He shook a folded letter at him. "My father sent me this an hour ago."

Setting the books into his trunk, Harry raised his eyebrows.

"The hearing's been cancelled and the charges against the hippogriff have been dropped," Draco said very proudly.

"That's brilliant! You can have an extra favor on top of the others you've gotten for that."

Draco's lips curled in pleasure. "Might I be allowed to use your Firebolt for the remainder of the school year?"

"Done," Harry said, "So long as you take good care of it."

"Naturally."

"What else?"

"I want a birthday gift this year. For your information, it is June the Fifth."

Harry blinked because the thought of giving birthday gifts hadn't occurred to him until then. "Done. Any others?"

"Yes, I need the use of a certain curse word back."

"What do you _need_ that for?" Harry said heatedly.

"My father is under the mistaken impression that it would be the first thing I ask for from you, and there are… situations where using it is imperative," Draco answered

Harry nearly retorted, but when he looked to Draco and saw how serious he was he relented. "Fine," Harry said flatly. "But if you ever use it around me or Hermione, I'll hex you."

"Your cautionary counsel will be taken into consideration."

"Exactly how many more does he owe you, Draco?" Theodore asked, having turned in his chair with an amused expression.

"Two others," he boasted, acting like a cat playing with a mouse.

"You completely took advantage of him."

"The chicken is saved, and I am at the mercy of my father once again." He turned to Harry at that. "By the way you wouldn't happen to be claustrophobic, would you?"

Harry let out an exasperated noise, and Switched into his night clothes. "You lot have fun. I'm going to bed."

His roommates bid him good night, and after taking off his Glaxxes, Harry closed the curtains and crawled under the covers. To their hushed voices, he fell asleep.

There was something silvery-white winding its ways through the trees ahead, and he could only catch glimpses of it between the leaves. Anxious to catch up with it, he mounted his broom, but as he moved faster so did his quarry.

He heard a woman's warm laugh. _"Oh, Harry! Leave Fringle alone."_

Not allowing himself to be distracted, Harry leaned forward into the broom and the trees blurred past him. Ahead of him he heard hooves gathering speed.

_"Good boy!" _Came a man's proud voice.

Harry jolted, head swinging toward where the voice might have come from and nearly slammed into a tree by accident. He looked over his shoulder as he came to a hovering stop. The air was devoid of any voices now. There was a clearing where a lake reflected the full moon. The apparition he'd been chasing was his Patronus, a stag, pawing the ground of the shore across from him. Numbness settled into him as Harry's breath suddenly grew misty in front of him and icy coldness gripped his chest; the dementors were coming for him! He raised his wand and—

"Wake up! We've been ordered downstairs to the common room," Draco told him, shoving his glasses into his hands.

Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up, putting them on. Unsteadily he rose from the bed and followed the rest of the Slytherins to the common room. The entire house spilled into the space murmuring amongst each other, curious as to why they had been summoned so urgently..

"Sirius Black entered Gryffindor Tower this evening and threatened a student in the dormitory with a knife," Snape said, drawing numerous gasps from the gathered crowd.

"How could that happen?" A girl cried out.

"Is there any chance he could get in here?" Another called out.

"Doubtful. An extremely foolish Gryffindor wrote down the week's passwords and subsequently lost said list." His black eyes raked over them, especially the first years. "I do not believe any of you are so dull-witted as to do the same."

Silence gripped them. Harry wondered if withholding the fact he had a magic map from Theodore had been a mistake... It'd be easier to watch it for a name with two sets of eyes.

"The castle is being searched once again, but Black will not likely get caught."

"He didn't take a wand, did he?" Theodore asked.

"Thankfully, he did not. All wands have been accounted for," their Head of House replied. "Obviously the wizard is dangerously deranged. Do not attempt to engage him should he approach you." This time Snape looked directly at Harry.

"Sir, I'm not mad enough to try," Harry said.

The Slytherins around him laughed nervously.

"Did I say something funny?"

"I doubt that you won't somehow manage to become embroiled in a heroic showdown with Black even if I managed to lock you in a trunk," Snape stated.

Second years and older laughed much harder this time as Harry's face burned in anger and embarrassment. "Aren't you describing yourself, sir?" They both knew that Harry hadn't been the one foolhardy enough to slay a basilisk. The room fell silent.

Snape's lips thinned. "Prefects, I will return before dawn. Everyone is to return to their rooms. No one is to leave from here, _especially_ Potter." With that, Snape headed up the stairs towards the exit, black robes billowing behind him as usual.

Harry wanted to hex him. Under his breath, he said, "_That greasy—"_

"Temper. Mind that you keep that in check, Potter," Snape's voice echoed from the portrait hole. Harry bit down the rest of his insult, his body vibrating in place. Theodore tapped his shoulder once and that seemed to help some.

"How peculiar. Why's my godfather—" Draco murmured, looking between Harry and where Snape had left. He lifted his eyebrows. "_Oh_. I see."

"See what?" Harry said crankily, turning to go to their dormitory.

"It's not important."

Harry ground his jaw and returned to his room. Of course it was important. Draco just didn't want to tell him. That's fine. It wasn't as if Harry was completely honest about important things either.

The next day, Harry discovered that Sirius Black had not yet been caught. Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was constantly bustling up and down the corridors, filling in the cracks and crevices with a putty-like substance; not only were they escorted from class to class, but the prefects were much more alert than usual, snapping at anyone who stepped a toe out of line.

Harry thought it was interesting that Black could sneak around the passageways without the Wards barring him in his Animagus form... As he stepped into the Great Hall, Harry noticed right away that Ron Weasley's voice was proudly lifting from the center of a group of students.

"I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft… I woke up to see one side of my hangings had been pulled down and there he was standing over me… like a skeleton with loads of filthy hair… holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches... and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he _scampered_."

"You mean you bellowed out a hair-raising scream," Zabini corrected.

"Yeah," Neville added tremulously, "Just about scared the pants off of me."

"And _whose_ fault was it that Black was in Gryffindor Tower in the first place?" Ron sounded rather outraged. Well, that would lower Neville's credibility if he tried to talk about Black being an Animagus.

"Oh, stop," Hermione said. "He's already lost his Hogsmeade privileges and gotten a detention. Leave him alone."

"That's rich, considering your _furry_ _pig_ murdered Scabbers!"

"Crookshanks didn't before and isn't responsible now!" Hermione yelled back. "Your rat was already sick; it could have coughed up the blood found on your sheets and then ran away! Some animals do that when they're about to die."

The two Gryffindors continued to scream at each other. At the touch on his shoulder, Harry looked beside him. "What?"

Theodore gestured to their House table. "Everyone's waiting for us."

Harry obediently sat with his Slytherin year-mates and ate breakfast, while Ron and Hermione continued their loud quarrel.

Monday came, and they went to breakfast in the Great Hall again. The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual. Harry caught the letter that Hedwig dropped for him, and she landed on his shoulder and nuzzled his ear with her beak. Harry tore it open and read. Hagrid's letter was spotted with tears, but Harry realized they were happy ones. As Draco had promised, Buckbeak's hearing, which was due to be Friday, had suddenly been called off without explanation.

"NEVILLE LAWRENCE LONGBOTTOM, HOW DARE YOU DEFEAT HOGWARTS' SECURITY MEASURES BY WRITING DOWN PASSWORDS!" An old woman's voice screeched from the entrance hall.

"AFTER I HAVE PAID A GREAT SUM FOR YOU TO BE TAUGHT AT THE MOST PRESTIGIOUS SCHOOL IN EUROPE YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME TO THE LONGBOTTOM FAMILY. YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME TO YOUR PARENTS AND THEIR SACRIFICE!" The voice boomed a hundred times greater in volume than normal. "YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE LONGBOTTOM NAME. IF I HEAR ANOTHER WORD OF YOU ENDANGERING OTHERS, YOU WILL BE REMOVED FROM HOGWARTS AND HOME-SCHOOLED! DO NOT WRITE ANOTHER WORD OF YOUR FANCIFUL IMAGININGS OF BLACK'S ESCAPE! YOUR MARKS ARE ABYSMAL. FOCUS YOUR ATTENTIONS ON SCHOOLWORK INSTEAD OF FAR-FETCHED THEORIES! Worried about you, Gran."

Even though it was much shorter than Ron Weasley's Howler, Harry felt rather sorry for Neville. Being left with his grandmother year-round would be excruciating.

Nothing especially thrilling happened during the week, other than just three things: First thing was Draco's excitement when he came back upstairs after Quidditch practice. "This broom turns at the lightest touch and goes so fast that everything else is a blur! It was so _easy_ catching the Snitch! If only I'd gotten this last month so I could have creamed the Ravenclaws!"

Even without meaning to, a light smile had touched Harry's face. At least someone was getting to enjoy the Firebolt's performance.

Second thing was that Harry had finally managed a dim Patronus in the presence of a dementor-boggart with his lessons with Professor Lupin.

The final thing was that another Hogsmeade weekend was coming up. Harry was itching to sneak out of Hogwarts using the Marauder's Map. He hadn't figured out a way to get past the Whomping Willow yet, but he couldn't stand to stay behind again while his entire year left him behind.

It was almost Easter break and he was absolutely stir-crazy. Besides Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, Harry hadn't gotten out much, not even to go for a walk to try a few things on the Whomping Willow. Even sending a few letters to Hermione ranting about the unfairness of it all didn't do anything for his mood. Being overprotective was something Harry could understand if Snape was being hounded by the headmaster to keep Harry safe, but the Death Eater had taken it to new levels that Harry hadn't seen since he became a first year. It was getting to be ridiculous.

Classes were nothing special. Just the usual learning and assignments to complete. Then, Saturday morning arrived. After breakfast, Harry had a couple of second-year girls, Astoria Greengrass—Daphne's younger sister—and her friends Lucretia Moss and Bridget Carpenter with him. Harry waved goodbye to his friends leaving Hogwarts grounds, some who called farewell to him. They all waved. Turning, Harry re-entered the castle.

Ginny had approached him afterwards, and they'd had an awkward conversation surrounded by three giggling second years. The Gryffindor excused herself not long after, looking annoyed.

Harry led the chatty girls into the dungeons and to the Thin Lady. "_Privilege_," he told her. The portrait swung open, and they entered.

"Thanks for walking with us, Potter," Astoria said shyly. Moss giggled, and Carpenter shushed her.

He nodded to them courteously, and they ran up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Seeing that only two other second years were whispering to one another over what appeared to be an essay, Harry turned towards the window which showed the green murky depths of Hogwarts Lake. For a moment he missed his mermaid friend. He wondered how she was faring since he last saw her.

He carefully pulled out the parchment and drew his wand, tapping it. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

Immediately he saw that Snape was in a room, labeled Slytherin's Chambers. Keeping the map concealed from anyone else in the common room simply by keeping his back towards them, he looked at where the door should be. There was nothing but blank stones between two pillars. Harry suspected it was a barrier like the one on Platform Nine-and-three-quarters. He watched the map as he moved. He circled the entire common room once and found no other secret doors or hidden entrances, and Snape hadn't moved from his spot on the map…

"What you've got there?" Jerome Stahl, one of the second years who'd been working, asked curiously.

Harry shoved it into his robes. "Just a spare bit of parchment," he told the two second years who looked at him with slightly adoring eyes. "You know, I just remembered I've left something in the library. If Snape asks for me, tell him I'm there."

"But you're not allowed to go by yourself," Peter Reinhardt said.

"Do you really think I need two second years to protect me?"

They averted their eyes looking cowed.

"I'll be back before you know it." Harry left the common room and entered the dungeon corridors. Knowing that the Death Eater would be notified, Harry hurried up to the third floor. As soon as he could, he stepped into a shadow and checked the map. No one was near, and he wasn't far off from the passageway he wanted to use.

Shoving it back into his robes, he hurried. He stopped at a statue of the One-Eyed witch. Taking his wand, he tapped it. Nothing happened. He opened the map and noticed the password was '_Dissendium'_ and then subsequently saw Neville Longbottom was right around the corner. He stuffed the map into its pouch.

"Harry! I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade either!"

"Hi, Neville," Harry said with a smile. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," he responded with a shrug. "Want to play a game of Exploding Snap?"

"That sounds like fun, but I had some things I needed to get done first."

"What things? Can I help? I know I'm not very good at homework—" He broke off with a small gasp, gazing past Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned. It was Snape. Neville took a step behind Harry. How did the adult always manage to find him? He glanced at the walls and didn't see any portraits in this corridor...

"And what are you two doing here?" The Potions Master said slowly as he looked from one to the other. "An odd place to meet—"

To Harry's immense disquiet, Snape's black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of them, and then settled for longer than necessary on the statue of the witch.

"We're not—We just happened upon each other here," Harry said, catching himself before he outright lied, "Right, Neville?"

Neville let out a squeak that could have been a yes.

"Indeed?" Snape glanced at them again with narrowed eyes. "You are very rarely in an unexpected place for no good reason, Potter… I suggest the pair of you return to your House common rooms."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Neville followed him. "Wait, Harry!"

"Longbottom, Gryffindor Tower is in the _opposite_ direction," came the growl. Snape didn't follow him as Harry expected.

As Harry looked back when he turned the corner he saw that Snape was running a hand over the witch's head, examining it closely. Several doors and turns later, Harry stepped into a niche and pulled out the map. Snape was already heading back to the dungeons. As fast as he could, Harry ran back to the statue, tapped it, and said the password. At once, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a fairly thin person. Harry perched on the edge of the hole and slid down feet-first on what felt like a stone slide. Then, he landed on cold, damp earth. Above him, the little light that came down through the hole disappeared and Harry was thrust in pitch blackness. He raised his wand, "_Lumos!_" He was in what appeared to be a low-ceilinged, narrow passageway framed by hard clay on each side.

He used Scarpin's Revealspell, a handy spell he'd only just managed to cast correctly the previous weekend. A spell glowed momentarily, flickering in a telltale pattern. Harry wracked his brain about what it was and when it came to him it wasn't with surprise. It was a blanketing Alerting Spell. Theodore's information must be correct... But then that meant the headmaster had gone down the slide to get here... Harry had the funny image of Professor Dumbledore letting out a shout of glee on the trip down here. Harry grinned to himself and rushed forward through it, knowing that even if he disabled it, chances were high that the headmaster would still be notified.

Following the twists and turns of the passageway, Harry stumbled now and then on the uneven floor with his wand out in front of him. Time passed, and then the passage rose into uneven steps. After he'd climbed what felt like a hundred worn, stone steps, he stopped to catch his breath. He pulled out his still-active map.

Harry had disappeared off the map of Hogwarts. Snape appeared to be heading to the Headmaster's Office, probably to warn the headmaster of Harry's disappearance even when the headmaster would know. He didn't worry whether Professor Dumbledore would tell Snape where he was or not. _"Mischief Managed_," he said, tapping it. The map blanked out, and he shoved it back into his pouch.

At the very top of the stairs was a heavy oak trapdoor. Harry stood there, listening for a moment. He couldn't hear anything. "Nox," He whispered and then very slowly opened the trapdoor and peered over the edge.

He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Deciding that no one was in the room, he climbed out and pushed the trapdoor back down—it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Harry crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now he could definitely hear voices. He could also hear tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door. Footsteps creaked on the floor above him—

"Harry Potter!" Herman Honeyduke said eagerly, startling Harry who'd thought he was alone. "Those Weasley boys told me to expect you, but I didn't think you actually would take them up on the offer."

Harry smiled. "I haven't been able to get off of Hogwarts grounds all year."

"Oh, dear boy. Shall I cast a Disillusionment charm on you?" He lifted a rosewood wand.

"Yes, please do. Could you escort me afterwards so I don't bump into your customers?"

"Of course, of course."

Harry waited very patiently as Mr. Honeduke appraised him for a long moment and then flicked the tip of his wand against his forehead. It was like Mr. Honeyduke had cracked an egg right on his forehead and its contents were trickling down Harry's body from that point.

"Best one yet, if I do say so myself," the adult said.

Looking down at himself, Harry saw that he was not invisible. His body had simply taken on the exact color and texture of his surroundings, like a human chameleon.

"Well then, ready to go?"

"Yes." Harry followed Mr. Honeyduke up the wooden stairs leading out the cellar.

Mrs. Honeyduke was selling candy like mad as their store was packed with Hogwarts students. "Where're the Jelly Slugs?"

"Oh, I'll get them in a bit," he said to her as Harry kept in step behind him as close to the wall as he could manage.

A few more steps later, Mr. Honeyduke opened the door as if he meant to peer outside and let Harry pass by him.

Harry took in a deep breath of early April air. His small bit of stolen freedom was such a wonderful feeling.

"Want ta go see the Shrieking Shack again?" Finnigan was saying to Thomas.

"Yeah."

Curious about this building he'd heard so much about, Harry followed them past the Three Broomsticks, up the slope and through a small copse of trees. A dilapidated shack stood a little way above the hill away from the rest of the village. Even in daylight, the shack looked creepy. Straight away, Harry noticed the protective amulets hanging from the barbed-wire fence at the base of it. He wondered if Theodore had sold a few of them.

"Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it," Thomas said, "I asked Nearly Headless Nick… he says he's heard a very rough crowd lives up there. No one's ever been able to get inside."

"Well, well, look who's here," Draco's voice sneered. "You two shopping for your new dream home? Bit grand for you, isn't it, Tommy? Doesn't your family live on the streets?"

"Shut yer mouth, Malfoy," Finnigan said.

"Oo, not very friendly," Draco said. "Not very smart to mouth off to me, Sir Faff-igan."

"_Locomotor Wibbly!"_ The Gryffindor screamed out.

"_Protego!"_ The Jelly-Leg Curse harmlessly splattered against the Shield Charm. "_Langlock!"_

Suddenly, Finnigan mouthed the air but could only grunt. His face was taking on the red color of angry embarrassment.

"_Finite Incantatem!"_ Thomas cast. When nothing happened, he tried again, but whatever Draco had used wasn't removed.

Draco tsked. "Sir Faff-igan, are you hurt? You want to run to your mum to have her kiss it better? Oh, sorry. She's too busy selling herself for a living." Goyle and Crabbe guffawed. "Maybe next time you'll listen when I warn you not to bully someone."

Finnigan lurched forward, but Thomas grabbed him by his robes. "Let's get out of here, Seamus, before he ruins your Da's business too."

"What running away, Tommy? I never took you for a _coward_."

Thomas stopped, and Finnigan turned his burning eyes to Draco. "You know, Malfoy... You may say you're protecting your own, but you're not. You're too much of a self-important twonk. You only wanted an excuse to bully"

"So?" There came a snort. "I think you just can't stomach the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived is _my _friend."

"It's obvious he only pretends to. You have too much power. No one would be willing to get close to you."

"You might be surprised," Harry said, ducking behind a tree so they couldn't pick him out.

There was silence for a moment.

"Did you hear that, Seamus? Sounded like Pot—"

"Could be a poltergeist, you ninny," Draco said with an air of someone commenting on the weather.

Thomas cast a general Cancelling spell, and Harry discovered that trees didn't prevent said spell from counteracting the effects of a Disillusionment Charm. He was a sitting exposed, Harry spelled a slight variation to the Stickfast Hex and scrambled up the tree to the branches where the new foliage had begun to grow.

"I heard him. He's somewhere over here!" Thomas' voice drifted upwards. Neither of them bothered to look up.

"_Stupefy!_" Bark exploded next to them.

"We're telling!" Thomas shrieked at Draco.

"Run, you cowards!" Draco spat out as the two teens ran back down the hill to Hogsmeade.

Seeing that the way was clear, Harry slid down the tree's trunk and turned to see Draco staring in his direction, Crabbe and Goyle gawping. "I'm liable to get detention for that, so you owe me." The blond smirked. "And, we saw nothing, but a certain wayward poltergeist should head back to Hogwarts… Thomas is bound to tell the first teacher he sees…"

Tearing down the path towards Hogsmeade, Harry didn't have to wait long for the door to Honeydukes to open so he could duck in. Bumping into someone only once as he sidestepped a few students, he went behind the counter startling Mrs. Honeyduke. Taking the cellar steps down, Harry saw Mr. Honeyduke. "I've got to get back. Sorry! I'll chat later." He didn't give the startled man time to respond as he ripped open the trapdoor and lit up the way with his wand. He ran down the stairs, across the earthen passage.

Thomas and Finnigan would make it back before him; there was no doubt about that. As he ran, muscles burning and lungs breathing deeply, he formulated what he was going to say to Snape. At the end of the passageway, Harry took out the map and tapped it, whispering the phrase needed for the map to awaken. No one was by the exit and Snape was in the dungeons in his office. Harry had only moments to get out. Deactivating the map, Harry shoved it back into his pouch, which he tied to the side of his belt, and braced his arms and knees against the insides of the stone slide. He rather quickly ascended, amazed that his physical stamina was even better than last year.

Once at the witch's hump, which didn't immediately open for him, he tapped it with his wand and it sprung open. He quickly hoisted himself out and the hump closed behind him. He cast a Cleaning Charm to remove any trace of dust or mud from his robes, shoes, and skin and a Refreshening Charm to get rid of any telltale smells he might have picked up. He quickly headed down the stairs, slowing at the entrance hall.

"Harry Potter?" A heavily accented man said behind him.

Harry turned and nearly started when he saw Salazar Slytherin standing in what was normally an empty still-life of a study room. "Er, I'm sorry. Can't talk right now."

From behind him, Harry heard quick footsteps approaching and robes swishing. Giving the stern-looking Salazar Slytherin a polite bow of farewell, Harry faced Snape who held a suppressed look of triumph about him.

"Did you need something, sir?" Harry presented a completely innocent air about him.

"Come with me, Potter," Snape said.

Harry followed him downstairs and into the bastard's office.

"Sit."

Calmly, Harry did so as his Head of House moved to stand by the large window behind his desk that looked over the shore of the lake. Movement caught the side of Harry's eye and he saw that Salazar Slytherin was peering out of a large painting on the side of the wall.

"Your voice was heard in Hogsmeade," Snape began neutrally.

Harry didn't say anything.

"You are not allowed beyond Hogwarts grounds. To be in Hogsmeade is a flagrant transgression on the rules laid out to you."

"Maybe whoever heard me should go to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, feeling unafraid by the line of questioning. He'd been in the library after all. "Hearing voices is nothing to be trifled with—"

"Neither Thomas nor Finnigan are suffering from auditory hallucinations," Snape snarled, and he bent over, a hand on each arm of Harry's chair, so that their faces were barely a foot apart. "If your voice was in Hogsmeade, then the rest of you was there as well."

"I was in the library, sir," Harry said, full of honesty.

"Can anyone confirm your statement? No?" Snape's lips curled into a horrible smile. "How extraordinarily like your father you are. He too was exceedingly arrogant. His head was so swollen with pride he believed the only thing he needed to keep the Dark Lord at bay was a Fidelius charm easily broken when the wizard he put his trust in betrayed—"

The pleading screams of his mother were filling Harry's mind, unbearably reminding him of that night. "SHUT UP!" Rage such as he had not felt since Neville had informed him of Sirius Black's betrayal coursed through him. Harry belatedly came to awareness. He was on his feet, wand pointed at Snape's nose. He didn't care that Snape's face had gone rigid, his black eyes flashing dangerously. "You, shut up about my parents!" Harry shouted, thoughts pouring from his brain to his mouth faster than he could think, "It must kill you that James got my mum and not you!"

"_What did you say to me, Potter?"_

Harry took a deep breath and lowered the wand before he was made to. _"_I told you to shut up!"

A terrible grin twisted Snape's face. "Turn out your pockets, Potter," he spat out.

Harry didn't move.

"Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster."

He wasn't afraid of the headmaster.

"Ah, but he has agreed with great regrets that your great-aunt would create a better learning environment since you have time and again recklessly defeated the measures to ensure your safety."

Harry scowled. "Your _measures_ mean that I don't have a moment to myself."

"_Turn out your pockets._"

He pulled the empty pockets of his trousers and outer robe inside-out. He made a show of checking the pockets of his inner robe too.

Snape narrowed his eyes. Moving faster than Harry could react, he tore the pouch off of Harry's belt and opened it. He pulled out the large, unwieldy folded parchment from within. "What is this?"

"Spare bit of parchment," Harry said with a flippant shrug. "In case, I wanted to write something down."

The greasy-haired bastard held the pouch upside-down and shook it as if expecting something else to come out. "With no quill and ink?"

"It's _magic_, professor," Harry said with an annoyed tone.

"Open it," Snape said, offering the parchment to him.

Harry took it and opened the blank pages, not seeing any harm in it.

Snape drew his wand and precisely placed it at the middle the parchment. For a moment, Harry panicked. What if the professor was Moony, Wormtail, Prongs, or Padfoot?

"Reveal your secrets!"

Harry blinked. That wasn't a spell… but something began to appear faintly, very faintly. Nothing that Harry could read at any rate. Harry clenched his hands around the parchment to keep them from shaking.

"Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" The git said, tapping the map sharply.

As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, the faint lines grew fat and black.

"Read it," He commanded, giving Harry a nasty look.

Harry stared at the message and hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

Snape stared coolly at Harry, who took a careful breath and stilled his thoughts so as not to go to pieces. "Go on," the professor said flicking his wand at the parchment.

"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git." Harry would have found the messages terribly funny if he wasn't right in front of the ruddy git. He continued, "Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor." Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm his mirth and peeked with one eye to read the rest. "And Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball." Taking a tight breath, Harry waited for the blow to fall.

"Why you insolent little prat!"

Eyes open now, Harry's mouth was too dry to respond because he'd said that he'd kept the parchment to write on. Snape would say these were imaginary characters that Harry had crafted to insult the Potions Master.

Snape strode to the fireplace which had a roaring fire and seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the mantle above it tossing the handful into the flames. "Lupin! I want a word!"

Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Snape stood back and seconds later Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. "You called, Severus?" Lupin murmured mildly.

"I certainly did." Snape said, still spitting-mad. The DADA professor turned as if he hadn't expected to see Harry.

"Harry, are you all right?" Lupin asked him gently.

"That—" Snape snatched the map from Harry's lax fingers. "Remains to be seen." The bastard offered the parchment to Lupin. "I have now just confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter." Snape glanced towards Harry with a sneer. "Take a look."

Professor Lupin accepted it.

"This is your area of expertise. _Clearly_, it is full of _Dark_ magic," Snape said lowly, pointing his wand at it as if the map were something very dangerous.

Harry swallowed again, wishing his mind were cunning enough to come up with some excuse to wiggle out of trouble.

An odd, closed expression appeared on Professor Lupin's face before he chuckled. "I seriously doubt it, Severus." The professor gave Harry the merest half-glance, warning him not to interrupt. "Full of Dark magic? Do you really think so? It looks as though it's a parchment design to insult any who tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I suspect it's a Zonko product that someone must've given to him."

"From a joke shop? No, I think it's more likely that he received it _directly from the manufacturers_." Snape made a move to grab it, but Professor Lupin pulled it out of the way.

Harry wasn't exactly sure what Snape was talking about, but Professor Lupin didn't disagree.

"Nevertheless, I shall investigate any hidden qualities it possesses." The grey-eyed man folded up the parchment like he'd done so all his life. Harry frowned at that… and suddenly realized he was probably never going to see the Marauder's Map again. Harry would never live that down with the Weasley twins.

There was a knock on the office door.

Snape shot an irritated look at Professor Lupin. "Come in."

Draco appeared in the doorway. "Professors," he nodded politely. "I heard that rumor about Harry being in Hogsmeade?"

The git's face went blank. "And?"

"Astoria said Harry was in the library with her."

Into the room shuffled the second year, looking terrified and wide-eyed.

"Is this true, Miss Greengrass?"

She nodded. "He couldn't've been in Hogsmeade, sir. He was with me working on his essay on vampires."

"You may go," Snape told her sharply. Draco and Greengrass exited quickly. Harry wondered how they had gotten away with it. "Potter, take better care not to leave your stray hairs about to prevent illegal impersonation."

This left Harry mildly confused. Couldn't he tell that she was lying? He narrowed his eyes at his Head of House, suspicious. If the bastard could read minds—use Legilimency—then he knew that Harry knew Astoria was lying. Snape's cheek twitched into a lopsided smirk before his expression became blank once more.

What was he up to?

"Well!" Professor Lupin said clapping his hands together and looking at them cheerfully. "Now that's taken care of. Harry, would you come with me please? I need to clarify a few expectations on that essay on vampires… Severus, excuse us."

Harry didn't dare look at Snape as they left from his office into the dungeon corridor. Once they'd made it up the stairs to the third floor room that Professor Lupin used as an office, Harry turned to him. "Professor, I—"

"I don't want to hear explanations." Professor Lupin glanced about the empty corridor before pulling the door shut. He tapped the door with his wand. "I happen to know this was a map confiscated by Filch many years ago."

Professor Lupin did handle it with strong familiarity. "Did you make it, sir?"

The professor chuckled. "Very astute, Harry. I was Moony, a nickname of sorts… I am, however," He shot Harry a very stern look. "_Astounded_ that you didn't hand it in. Did it never occur to you that this in the hands of Sirius Black is a map to you?"

Harry nodded his head because it _had_ occurred to him.

"Yes?" Professor Lupin prodded.

"Yes, sir, it had," Harry said.

"You know, your father never set much store by the rules either. But he and your mother gave their lives to save yours. Gambling their sacrifice by sneaking out of Hogwarts unprotected with a killer on the loose seems a poor way to repay them!" The tendons in Professor Lupin's neck were corded and his neutral expression emanated anger.

How had he known that Harry had, in fact, left Hogwarts? Did Harry smell like the passageway? Harry took a careful breath, deciding it was better not to speak. Even unChanged and with regular doses of Wolfsbane Potion, werewolves were notorious for their tempers.

Professor Lupin snorted at Harry's arrested expression, and the tension faded with the next words. "You and your friends may have duped Professor Snape, but not me." He tapped his nose. "I can sniff out a lie, and you dear Harry are drenched with them." He breathed out and said more quietly, "Now, I will not remain quiet a second time should this happen again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered and looked at the floor.

"I want you to return to the Slytherin Dungeons and stay there."

Harry nodded and turned to leave.

"And don't take any detours. If you do, I shall know," Professor Lupin said, tapping the map with a finger.

As the door opened to let him out, Harry stopped. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Just so you know… I think the charms are beginning to wear off on the map."

"Oh?" He said looking down at the map with interest.

"Some nights ago… It showed someone in the castle. Someone who we both know to be dead."

"And who might that be?"

"Peter Pettigrew," Harry said solemnly. When Professor Lupin's face twisted partly in dismay and partly in disbelief, Harry continued hurriedly, "That's why I think it doesn't quite work. It's impossible, I know… I'll see you at class next week." As Harry left, the DADA professor clutched the deactivated map.

Harry felt worse than he did in Snape's office, but not because Professor Lupin was upset that he'd left the safety of Hogwarts Castle. No, it was because Harry had mentioned Peter Pettigrew. The wizard was dead and likely had been in the same circle of friends as Professor Lupin, Sirius Black, and Harry's parents. Bringing that up to Professor Lupin had been unnecessarily cruel.

Hermione and Sally-Anne were waiting in the Entrance Hall as if expecting Harry to show. Their faces lit up when they saw him; Hermione's especially.

He stopped, looking between the two of them. "What is it?"

"I know I haven't been a good friend this year, but when Hagrid said the hearing was called off I thought it was just a stroke of luck. The man was nearly beside himself. He built Buckbeak a more permanent nesting structure!" She glanced to Sally-Anne. "I only found out today that you'd lobbied Draco to change his father's mind. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, when Theodore said that finding cases that would prevent his execution was impossible—"

Under Sally-Anne's amused eyes, Hermione flung her arms about Harry's neck tightly like she had last year, except now she felt softer, less bony. He very awkwardly patted her back. He was never going to get used to being hugged.

"Thank you, thank you, Harry. Hagrid's invited Neville and me for tea the evening after our Herbology exam, but I want you to come. He'll be so happy to see you." Her voice faltered as her arms tightened around him. "If... If only you could find Scabbers too, so Ron would start talking to me again…" She sounded as if she'd been caught underwater and then she began to cry.

Harry shot a bewildered look at Sally-Anne, who mimed rubbing Hermione's back and mouthed 'It's okay.'

"It's okay, Hermione. I'm sure the rat'll turn up; Snape's probably caught him again…" Harry said awkwardly rubbing her back.

Eventually she calmed enough to tearfully thank him again, and Harry was allowed to return to the dungeons with Sally-Anne.


	17. A Solved Cryptograph

_**Author's Notes: **Gosh, this chapter was fun to write.  
_

**_15-04-2014 Extra Note: _**__In case you're wondering why Harry refers to Einstein as an American scientist it's because Harry was alright at Muggle History class (though he was bored there too), but doesn't remember nuances such as how German-born Einstein emigrated to America and became a citizen. If Hermione was around she would have corrected him, so no worries there. __

_"(Einstein) became a German citizen in 1914 and remained in Berlin until 1933 when he renounced his citizenship for political reasons and emigrated to America to take the position of Professor of Theoretical Physics at Princeton*. He became a United States citizen in 1940 and retired from his post in 1945." - taken from "Albert Einstein - Biographical', nobelprize org. Use your Google-fu if you want to read the rest.  
_

* * *

As the term stretched on, Arithmancy was getting more and more complicated. Harry's number charts—which were required, but he didn't find all that helpful—grew more complex. Surprisingly, one day Hermione wasn't anywhere to be seen. She was such a stickler for attendance that Harry worried that something had happened to her. He went to lunch and noticed she wasn't there eating with her house, either.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"Hermione didn't show up for Arithmancy this morning," he told Theodore.

Theodore had a strange look on his face. "She takes Arithmancy with you?"

"Yes… Why do you look like I said something odd?"

"She's in Divination with me in the morning, and this morning she stormed out after having a fit at Professor Trelawney," he said. "Then I see her in Muggle Studies in the afternoon."

Harry stared. "But she takes Care of Magical Creatures with me in the afternoon… How can she be in two places at once?" Harry paused, remembering a film he'd seen on the telly at the Dursleys. "There's no such thing as time-traveling magic, is there?"

"Beats me. If there was, I think I'd heard of it."

Harry looked along the table, wondering who to ask. In all the books of magic spells he read there had never been any hint of time-traveling magic. If there was, Harry would have liked to go back to kill Voldemort before the evil wizard murdered his parents.

* * *

Easter Holiday came and went. Many Slytherins, mostly older years, had stayed behind since their O.W.L.s and their N.E.W.T.s were nearly upon them; Harry stayed only because the greasy-haired bastard—who was technically still his legal guardian—wouldn't let him visit any of his friends. For a brief moment, Harry thought about running away only to receive a greatly detailed lecture about how stupid and idiotic that plan would be. Harry had left with his ears ringing and a headache the size of Manchester.

That Saturday was the upcoming Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuffs were competitive but not malicious. Unfortunately, some Gryffindors, seeing that they were at a disadvantage going into their last match the next week, decided to even the odds so to speak. These bullies tried to find methods of incapacitating Draco, since he was Slytherin's only Seeker; if it weren't for Crabbe and Goyle, Harry imagined that Draco might have been pushed out a window by now. Due to these escalating tensions, a fourth-year Gryffindor and a sixth-year Slytherin was sent to the infirmary after being hit by a Reflected curse that caused leeks to grow out of their ears. After that, Harry took to wearing his Spellfast cloak _every_ day.

The night before the match was to take place, the Slytherins went to bed early, knowing they'd need all the sleep they could get to stay extra alert during the match. Harry, as usual, slept badly. His dreams were mostly incoherent, but he found himself opening his eyes and pulling the curtain back to check the room in the faint moonlight. The eighth time he'd woken up, he sat up, put on his glasses, and walked to the window, gazing out across the grounds, which were still and quiet.

No breath of wind disturbed the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was shifting slightly in an innocent manner. There was no black dog staring up at the tower window where he stood, but his eyes caught sight of something else, an animal… roughly the size of a cat, bounding towards the edge of the forest. It had a bottlebrush tail sticking straight up behind it.

Harry squinted and pressed his nose to the cool glass. He was sure he could see something else moving in the shadow of trees too.

And just then a great shaggy, black-haired dog moved stealthily across the lawn, the familiar cat—whose light color Harry couldn't determine—trotted by its side.

"Theo!" Harry hissed, knowing he was the lightest sleeper in the room.

A soft noise exhaled and Theodore's bed creaked quietly as he stood up, shambling towards Harry. "What is it?" He whispered, his face extremely pale in the moonlight. Harry pointed and Theodore looked out the window as well.

Harry looked back out the window where the Whomping Willow sat _completely_ unmoving in the center of the Hogwarts lawn. Sirius Black and the cat had disappeared. Harry peered down the side of the castle as much as he could with the window closed, but neither animal was in sight.

"What was that? A Grim?" Theodore asked.

Adrenaline jolted into him. Harry's intuition had been right. Wherever the secret passageway beneath the Whomping Willow led, it'd go straight to the escaped convict. It meant that Sirius Black had to know the precise knot to paralyze the tree! "I need to get down to the Whomping Willow."

"I don't think that's a smart plan... Not in the middle of the night when Black could be afoot—" Theodore cut himself off. "Harry, how long has that dog been following you?"

Harry didn't answer.

"So, you've been followed by it, and you didn't think that was strange?"

Staring out the window, Harry didn't know what to say because then his friend would discover that he'd been lying to him.

Theodore sighed. "I ask because..."

"Because...?"

"What if… he's an Animagus?" Theodore's hesitant voice filled the empty room with the secret Harry had hidden for the better part of the year.

"If he was, why would he stay in Azkaban for twelve years if he could leave any time he wanted?" It was a question that had haunted Harry all year. If Black were guilty, he wouldn't have stayed... But why would someone who was innocent stay?

"Perhaps… he felt remorse for what he'd done. Maybe he felt he deserved Azkaban…"

"Then why did he leave?"

"…Maybe he felt he'd served long enough…?"

"What if…" Harry trailed off.

"What?" Theodore prompted in a hushed whisper.

"It's barmy."

"Spit it out. I might as well hear it now that I'm awake," Draco's acidic voice whipped out from the bed on Harry's left.

"What if he saw the newspaper… saw that I was taken away by the Dursleys and adopted by Snape…?"

"And if Black's an Animagus and your legal godfather… yes, it makes sense why he would try to attack Snape in Hogsmeade," Draco finished the thought for him. "Snape's between him and you."

"Then, why did Black try to get into the third-year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Theodore said straightforwardly.

Harry suppressed his irritation.

"Not to him it isn't," Draco said curtly.

"Explain it then," Harry said.

"All Potters before you have been in Gryffindor and nowhere else," Thedore said, "Considering you're supposed to be a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor… The pattern should have held true."

"You think he would expect me to go quietly when all he had was a knife?"

"He's deranged, anything's possible. He wouldn't think you'd know any spells useful enough to disarm him. And he'd be right… if you were a Gryffindor."

Harry turned towards the dim shape laying in Draco's bed. "You think Zabini can't defend himself?"

Draco tsked. "He's describing _you_, Harry. What would have happened if no one found out about the way those Muggles treated you?"

"I would've been miserable over summer break," Harry said.

There came a heavy sigh. "You have no imagination…" Draco murmured.

Theodore's voice cut in, "Would you have been able to get your homework done over summer break? Would your relatives have taught you what Snape did? What about what happened with Dobby last year? I doubt magic-hating Muggles would have been as understanding about the use of a Floating Charm around them. You could've been expelled."

Harry shuddered to think of it. "I would've gotten homework done, Dursleys or no… but I see your point." It might have taken longer for Harry to learn how to _think_. "But if Black saw my broom get destroyed and sent a replacement broom then he'd know I wasn't in Gryffindor. He'd have to be close enough to hear the announcements of the team positions."

"Oh, right. I guess Black would be wealthy enough to afford a Firebolt," Theodore agreed.

"One cryptograph's been solved, and as usual it's unlocked a new one," Draco said decisively, "Before you start yammering about what Black could possibly want in Gryffindor Tower if he knew Harry wasn't there, might I remind the both of you that I have an important match tomorrow."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, we're done," Theodore responded, hopping back into his bed.

Letting out a great yawn, Harry crawled back into his bed and fell quickly asleep.

* * *

Wearing the bright green jumper from Mrs. Weasley in support of his team, Harry watched as the remaining Slytherins laughed or jeered when the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team bounced into the Great Hall energetically. They looked eager especially with both the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors applauding for them with their own house. It wasn't often that Hufflepuffs had much attention from the school.

After breakfast finished, three-quarters of the students applauded for the Hufflepuff Team again as if their encouragement might change the most likely result, now that Draco had use of Harry's Firebolt.

The Slytherin team left early to get changed in the locker room while Harry stayed behind with Theodore. Once he'd finished his meal, he walked with the rest of the Slytherins to the stands closest to the Slytherin Goalpost. It was a beautiful, dry day without any wind to blow the players off course. Theodore offered him a small, green flag with a glittering silver Slytherin serpent, which flicked its tongue out when Harry waved it; "_Slytherin_!" it hissed. He saw that the rest of the crowd were in Hufflepuff colors of black and yellow, brandishing banners of encouragement and waving yellow flags with the Hufflepuff black badger upon them.

Snape appeared in robes that were a rather peculiar shade of emerald green. The Potions Master took one look at Harry and then took the remaining seat in front of him. Harry smothered the urge to kick his head. It wasn't long at all until the announcer introduced the players—Harry booed the Hufflepuffs as they came onto the field and booed at the announcer's not-so-choice words while he described the Slytherin team. Harry knew his team had worked hard to train; implying they were all brawn and no brains was simply ridiculous. Then, Madam Hooch had the Captains shake hands and the game began!

Harry saw the Snitch only briefly, but it'd immediately flitted towards the cottony clouds disappearing. Deciding to leave it to Draco, he watched the Chasers and the Keepers in their ardent struggle to score points and defend goals.

"And it's Hufflepuff in possession, Malcolm Preece of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Malcolm! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Cassius Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by Maxine O'Flaherty, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by—Heidi Macavoy, Hufflepuff back in possession, come on, Heidi—nice swerve around Montague—_duck, Heidi, that's a Bludger!_—SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO HUFFLEPUFF!"

The announcer obviously wasn't Slytherin.

The Hufflepuff Chaser who'd scored punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the majority of the stands screaming for her.

And then Marcus Flint smashed into her scrawny frame 'accidentally'.

Harry scowled, recognizing the poorly executed Slytherin tactic.

"FOUL PLAY! C'MON HOOCH, GIVE HIM A PENALTY!" The announcer shouted.

A moment later, Anthony Rickett chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head, missed and hit Graham Montague in the shoulder. The Chaser howled with pain, clutching his arm.

"NICE SHOT—Professor McGonagall, really?—" The announcer sighed heavily. "Madam Hooch is arriving to detail penalties."

"That will do!" Madam Hooch shrieked, zooming between them. "Penalty shot to Hufflepuff for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to _their_ Chaser!" She blew on her whistle and Heidi flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Heidi!" The announcer cheered for her as the crowd around him went silent. Harry wondered why no Slytherin had ever attempted to become announcer for their matches. The opinions were obviously biased; the Slytherins booed and jeered loudly around him.

"YES! SHE'S BEATEN KEEPER BLETCHLEY! TWENTY-ZERO, HUFFLEPUFF'S STILL IN THE LEAD!"

Montague, whose face was deathly pale, flew forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Hufflepuff Keeper Herbert Fleet was hovering in front of his goal posts with a fierce look on his face.

" 'Course, Herbie's a superb Keeper!" The announcer told the crowd as Flint waited for the whistle. "Superb!—YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!" The announcer roared.

Harry booed loudly with his fellow Slytherins. Flint called a time-out before the game could restart, and Montague was replaced with Adrian Pucey. Harry saw that Montague laid onto the provided stretcher and was floated off the pitch. There was another whistle, and the game was back on.

"Hufflepuff in possession, no, Slytherin in possession—no!—Hufflepuff back in possession and it's Tamsin Applebee for Hufflepuff with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field—THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Chaser Warrington had swerved in front of Applebee and seized her head. Harry's mouth dropped open in the blatant rule-breaking.

The Hufflepuff Chaser cartwheeled a little in the air and clung to him when she fell off her broom. She, of course, dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again. Applebee remounted the broom Preece held out for her. Madam Hooch looked livid as she soared over to Warrington, shouting, "PENALTY TO HUFFLEPUFF FOR THE ILLEGAL HANDLING OF THEIR CHASER!"

This match wasn't much like the ones between other Houses Harry had seen. His team was playing very dirty to get the Quaffle at any cost. Harry wondered if this was how they always played or if Montague was encouraging more vicious tactics as unofficial Team Captain. He scowled.

A minute later, Applebee put in a penalty shot for Hufflepuff past Bletchley.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—" The announcer stopped again, and when they heard his voice again he'd said, "I'm telling it like it is, professor!"

Ignoring the announcer, Harry saw it as it glinted like a flying gold beetle across the pitch. Unfortunately, Cedric Diggory saw it first. Thankfully, Draco had kept an eye on the other Seeker too and headed straight for it. He dodged Bludgers from the Hufflepuff Beaters easily.

Waving his flag, Harry screamed excitedly, "GET IT, DRACO! WIN THIS GAME FOR US!"

Suddenly the crowd of green around him erupted, jumping to their feet and shouting encouragements. Flags with the silver serpent were flapped vigorously, emitting victorious hisses.

With a triumphant look on his face as the Snitch changed direction right out from Diggory's clutches, Draco wheeled the Firebolt around and kicked it forward into a dive. The broom went even faster, and he seemed to become a green blur. There, a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny, gold glimmer.

The Hufflepuff Team Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory, had fallen miles behind. Bole and Derrick didn't make his job any easier as they sent Bludgers his way.

"YES!" Harry screamed. "WE WON! WE WON!"

Soaring above them, Draco had his hand in the air and shook the Snitch furiously at them. The golden orb helplessly beat its wings against his fingers.

Harry looked over the field at the rest of the crowd, who were largely quiet and still except for a very vocal few booing. The Hufflepuff Team looked heartbroken, though none of them cried about it.

"Through dirty tactics and fancy gadgets," the announcer said sounding defeated, "The Slytherin team has won. Let's hope that either team in the last game get enough Quidditch points to win the Quidditch cup."

The stands were emptying around Harry as his housemates ran out to congratulate the team. Not caring for the press of crowds, Harry stepped down and leaned against the railing to get a better look. He watched as his teammates were raised up by multiple hands. The younger Slytherins were jumping up and down animatedly. Marcus Flint had been given an enormous Slytherin flag, which he passed with great dignity to Montague, whose arm looked completely healed. Montague turned his head side to side as if saying something to them, and Harry's teammates each took up a part of the flag and began to chant, the very same chant that Slytherins used in the locker room.

_"Stir 'em up, add the zest_

_'Cause Slytherin's the best_

_Beaters beat, and Keepers keep_

_Chasers chase, and Seekers seek_

_Stir 'em up, add the zest_

_'Cause Slytherin's the best_

_'Cause we Serpents know how to reap_

_A win to make 'em weep!"_

Draco, who was on the shoulders of Crabbe, helped lift the flag and shouted with the rest of them.

Even though his team had fouled the Hufflepuffs the most, the one with the worst injury ended up being a Slytherin Chaser. As the Slytherins carried on with their excitement, Harry smiled and felt he could have produced the world's best Patronus right then.

* * *

Harry's euphoria lasted weeks. Even though it hadn't been him who'd won the match, the entire Slytherin House seemed livelier.

Even the weather seemed to be celebrating. It was too bad, really, that Harry was stuck inside for Independent Potion Study and detention. He missed the Gryffindor's last Quidditch match.

Neither the Ravenclaws or the Gryffindors scraped by with enough points to beat the large gain that Slytherin had. Seeing the scores and hearing that the match had lasted only an hour, Harry had to wonder why they didn't deliberately draw out the match to get as many points as possible.

The Slytherins accepted the Quidditch Cup that evening from none other than Albus Dumbledore. Marcus Flint and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch Team—including Harry—was invited to stand at the front of the hall.

"Good work, Slytherin, for winning the Quidditch Cup for the eighth year in a row. Be careful that you don't lose sight of yourselves in the heat of the game," the headmaster's voice boomed. With a flick of his wand, the Quidditch Cup flew to Flint's hands, who immediately passed it to Draco. Draco turned to Harry and offered a handle to him. "You helped," he said by way of explanation.

With a smile, Harry took the other handle, and his team behind him and his housemates at their table hissed with approval. There was a poof of purple smoke and a flash. Lowering the large camera, Professor Burbage smiled and promised to make copies of the photographs for everyone on the team. Harry was startled to realize that he hadn't yet been in a picture due to being out of commission both times Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup.

It was early June, and exams were upon them.

Bletchley and Warrington had their O.W.L.s this year; Marcus Flint and Gilbert van Tellwyenth had their N.E.W.T.s , which stood for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Harry hoped they both passed and graduated; from Gilbert, Harry had learned that N.E.W.T.s determined what sort of jobs one had the qualifications to apply for.

Because of these very important exams, it was no surprise to Harry that he saw less and less of Gilbert, who'd had the habit of walking around with his nose down, reading.

A little nervous of the upcoming exams, Harry studied fervently with his roommates, practicing especially for Ancient Runes and Transfigurations, his two worst subjects that year. He helped Crabbe and Goyle with the Cheering Charm that was likely to be on the Charms exam. Sally-Anne provided tutoring for Transfigurations, while Pansy gave extra tips for Astronomy. Tracey was particularly gifted at remembering dates and historical events. Draco helped everyone with Potions, while Theodore focused on giving everyone hands-on help with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry was glad he'd never taken Divination; just seeing everyone, other than Daphne and Bulstrode, not study for it demonstrated to Harry exactly how much of a waste of time it was.

Exam week began and an unnatural hush fell over the castle. Monday, Professor Vector's exam was so easy Harry had been the first to finish it, but he waited until Sally-Anne was done before going to his next exam. Then after a hasty lunch with his roommates he headed to the Care of Magical Creatures exam outside.

Hagrid was vibrant and boisterous during their exam on flobberworm care. He'd gotten a fresh batch of them and told them that to pass the test, their flobberworm had to be alive in an hour. It was by far the easiest exam that Harry had ever taken.

Afterwards, Harry insisted on speaking with Hagrid, much to Draco's scoffing disgust. Sally-Anne seemed to understand Harry's need and shushed Draco, who didn't seem to like that but didn't say anything nasty to her.

"How's Buckbeak?"

"He's doin' well, doin' well, 'Arry," the half-giant looked at him uncomfortably. "How's yer back? Still not hurtin', I hope?"

"No, I'm as good as new," Harry half-lied. He no longer hurt, but whenever it was too cold or before he stretched, the muscles pulled tightly, though without pain.

Even though Hagrid didn't catch his lie, he looked guilty. "Awful sorry 'bout that I am, 'Arry. Buckbeak's too difficult for third years. Next year he'll only meet sixth years and older, so… So's no one gets hurt again." The half-giant scratched his head and then part of his beard. "Best yeh get goin', 'Arry. Don't want Professor Snape to come after me," he said with a wink.

Harry laughed at the joke intended, though he despised anything to do with his Head of House, and he went back to the castle flanked by Slytherins.

On Tuesday, the third years emerged from the Transfigurations exam at lunchtime. Harry noticed that most of them were either glowing or ashen-faced, comparing the results and either gloating their success or bemoaning the difficulties of the tasks that had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise.

"Harry, how'd yours turn out? The patterning didn't look as realistic as I liked, but it was passable," Draco said self-deprecatingly.

Harry looked away. "It had a willow-patterned shell."

Draco gave him a sad, understanding look. "Much better than your other attempts at least. The tail wasn't a spout, was it?"

"No, thank Merlin for that. I _might_ get a Pass for it."

"At least yours didn't breathe steam," Theodore butted in. "I think my turtle only _looked _like one and was just a fancy, turtle-shaped teapot."

They had a good laugh at that.

After a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam. Harry slightly outdid his Cheering Charm on Theodore, who'd ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he could perform the charm himself. Harry knew he'd cast it the same on Crabbe and Goyle and wondered what went wrong; he thought that perhaps a Cheering charm made a cheerful person insensibly mirthful or perhaps it was because Harry had wanted it to _really_ work…

Then after dinner, the third-year Slytherins studied together quietly in the common room for their History of Magic and Astronomy exams for the next day; the former ended up being on medieval witch hunts which Harry had actually studied only at Tracey's insistence. The long in-between period that day had Harry studying in Snape's Potions lab, while older years were being tested. Within an hour, Harry felt he was prepared for the Astronomy exam, and then two hours later he was ready for both the Potions and Ancient Runes exam. Since there was nothing left to study, he was tremendously bored in the silent, smelly classroom, while the greasy-haired bastard prowled around marking down notes about each student's potion.

Once three classes had cycled through their Potions exam, Harry put away his school things and went to dinner.

* * *

At dinner, Theodore, Sally-Anne, and Harry had their heads together about what the Study of Ancient Runes exam might look like.

"Based off how the rest of the year went, I think it'll be a Practical exam, where half of the class is going to suffer from the effects of some Rune and you're going to have to solve and counter it. And once your time is up, Professor Babbling will switch out the chairs and make the rest of us sit in them."

"That's awfully detailed for a simple guess, Sally-Anne," Theodore commented suspiciously.

She smiled. "We need to practice this. I want to show my parents that I've made O's or E's."

"I guess O's or E's are the better grades?" Harry said, "I've never quite figured that out."

Theodore and Sally-Anne looked at each other knowingly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Sorry," Theodore mused. "We were just tested on that bit of trivia on Muggle Studies Exam Monday."

"But Muggle Studies is at the same time as Care of Magical Creatures…" Harry said slowly and then turned to Sally-Anne. "How could you be taking—"

"So these are the Wizard complements to Muggle grades," she started abruptly, "A+'s are O's. A's are E's. B's are A's. C's are upper-P's, D's are lower-P's or upper-D's, and F's are either lower-D's or T's."

These had been marks Harry had seen on his essays and tests for several years. "Wizarding A's are C's?" The marks he'd gotten his first year apparently hadn't been as good as he'd thought.

Sally-Anne smiled. "O stands for Outstanding, E for Exceeds Expectations, A for Acceptable, P for Poor, D for Dreadful, and T for Troll."

"Oh, that's sensible," Harry said. "The letters for Muggles are just the in order of the alphabet. I don't know why they exclude the E though."

"Professor Burbage says it's skipped because the D and F Muggle mark covers a vaster amount of failing from only getting two-third of the work right to none at all. Or an E sounds like a D or looks like an F," Theodore answered, "Muggles are very particular about direct communication, so the more universally understood the symbol the better."

A sudden thought appeared in Harry's mind at the talk of Muggle Studies. "Why are there no Wizard Studies classes for Muggle-born students?"

They both blinked at him as if the thought had never occurred to them, and it probably hadn't.

"I mean," Harry continued, "It's very stressful having to learn everything magical all at once. Why wasn't there a required introductory class to explain things about magic that magical people take for granted every day?"

"That's a fantastic idea, Harry," Sally-Anne said. He was warmed by the praise.

"I don't know why we don't already…" Theodore said. "We ought to petition our Head of House so he'll sponsor it to the headmaster."

Harry suppressed his annoyance at the mention of Snape. "You forget I'm friends with Professor Dumbledore and that he's fond of Muggles. You know he supported the Muggle Protection Act last year."

"Hm. So what could we say that would make it clear that not continuing to provide this class would be _detrimental_ to the general student body?" Sally-Anne looked at the both of them. "I mean, there's bound to be people who are against making Muggle-borns less disadvantaged…"

They thought for a moment.

Draco leaned into their little group. Harry gave him a curious look.

"What are you three scheming now?" The Malfoy Heir said imperiously, a hand on his hip.

"We're going to petition the headmaster to include a required Wizard Studies class for Muggle-born students to ease their transition," Theodore said.

"Brilliant," Draco said aloud. "That's bloody brilliant. Why has no one thought of this before? Though, might I offer a suggestion?"

Harry shrugged.

"Required for Muggle-borns and _Muggle-raised_."

"A fair point," Sally-Anne said grinning.

"I _will_ miss duping Muggle-borns into believing the most ridiculous and outlandish ideas," Draco said pompously. "Ah well, it was growing tedious having to always explain what and why and how. I don't know how my godfather puts up with it all the time; it's bothersome."

Theodore snapped his fingers. "That's it! Thanks, mate."

Draco gave him a puzzled expression.

"The benefit of requiring the class is a less stressful transition into our world, whereas the detriment of not doing so is that resentment and negativity gets fostered between Muggle-borns and everyone else," he explained to them. "It's really no wonder why nearly all the Muggle-borns—"

"And Muggle-raised," Draco interrupted.

Theodore nodded. "—and Muggle-raised get so prickly about certain topics. Blaise told me at the beginning of the school year that one of the Gryffindor first years had a meltdown during their first Transfigurations class."

Curious, Harry asked, "What was the issue?"

"Something about some Muggle's law…I think it was... Einstein's Law. It's not something Professor Burbage has covered yet." He peered at Harry.

"Er, Albert Einstein was a famous American scientist. He came up with e equals m c squared and loads of other things I can't recall," Harry said to their blank faces.

Understanding lit up on Sally-Anne's face. "Oh, I remember, a scientist uses the scientific method to study the natural world to find patterns so Muggles can mimic it and make useful things without needing magic." Sally-Anne nodded to herself. "It's kind of like what's done with Runic Magic, except we're studying magical properties of numbers and the like."

"What is… e equals m c squared? A sort of Muggle formula?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"If I remember right, energy equals mass times the square of light's speed," Harry told him.

Draco's face showed no understanding. "The... _speed_ of light...?"

Harry decided to try another route. "The important thing is that it means that energy can't be destroyed or created. It must come from somewhere and that everything around us, whether it's our clothing, water, tables… Whatever has mass has a huge amount of energy stored in it. Though I have no idea why the speed of light has anything to do with it…"

"A _Muggle_ came up with underlying foundation of Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration?" Draco said with a bewildered tone mostly to himself.

Rather hungry, Harry decided that was enough talking and grabbed more food to eat.

"You should've taken Muggle Studies. It's rather fascinating how Muggles have coped without magic," Theodore informed Draco.

"Like my father would allow _that_?" Draco laughed.

"I guess not," Theodore said ruefully.

"For your information," Sally-Anne said with an affronted tone, "Muggles don't _cope_; they've _adapted_, and they've adapted well."

"Oh, don't you get started on that," Theodore said. "If you ask me, you spend far too much time in Granger's company that you're beginning to sound like her."

Sally-Anne sighed. "I just happen to agree with her that the Muggle Studies class is a thinly veiled attempt to dehumanize non-magical people and to reinforce that they are lesser than us because of their absence of magic. I think a class of Wizard Studies would help balance that perspective out quite a bit, wouldn't you?"

Draco snorted derisively. "Muggles, largely, are little more than intelligent _creatures_ on par with centaurs and goblins."

Harry choked on his food.

"_Anapneo,"_ Sally-Anne cast, tapping his back.

The hunk of meat that had gotten jammed in his throat suddenly hurled onto his plate. After taking a large drink of water to stop his coughing, Harry stood up to face Draco properly. "Muggles are human, just like you and I. If they weren't, Muggle-borns wouldn't exist," Harry said angrily.

Taken aback, Draco's face contorted into disgust. "No Muggle is like _me_."

"Nor is any magical person like _you_," Harry mocked. "You are completely unique. Your DNA proves it."

"DNA? You act like I know what that means!" Draco retorted angrily.

"Stop acting like you know everything then!" Harry shouted back.

Theodore got between them. "Easy, now."

"Is there a…_problem_?" Snape said dangerously, towering over the both of them.

"He provoked me!"

"Potter, do not _yell_ at me."

"What? How did I provoke you?" Draco sounded honestly mystified.

"You equated Muggles to non-humans!"

"Potter, I will not ask again to lower your voice."

Harry bit his lower lip and tightened his fists to stop from attacking them.

"If I've offended you, I apologize…" Draco said more quietly.

"So, if I wasn't offended, you wouldn't be sorry," Harry shot back.

"That's not—!"

"_Enough!_" Snape told them.

Harry finally looked around the Great Hall. He saw that the rest of the students from other Houses were watching them intensely. He grew embarrassed to have caught attention in the worst possible way.

"You will duel," the greasy-haired git continued, "In the common room, _tonight_."

"Tonight's our Astronomy exam, professor," Sally-Anne told him.

Nodding slightly, Snape ordered, "Tomorrow then. Separate yourselves and finish your meal."

Harry sat down in his spot, dead-set on ignoring Draco. Rage was still swimming inside his head. He took a deep breath and let the air out, feeling slightly better once he had done so.

It wasn't until then that he realized that he hadn't seen a duel all year.


	18. A Lost Duel

**_Author's Notes: _**_I had too much fun writing this chapter, I think. Also, the last three chapters are written, but life has blindsided me so I can't update them daily like I usually do. I apologize.  
_

* * *

The Astronomy exam was held in the tallest tower. Once Harry had finished it as quickly as he could, he returned to his dormitory with Theodore, Switched his clothes, and fell asleep.

Neither greeted each other in the morning, nor did Draco or his thickset pawns choose to participate in Harry's morning exercise activity. As far as either of them was concerned, Harry and Draco did not exist to one another. Harry went through breakfast with only Sally-Anne and Theodore for company. The other four third-year Slytherins stayed firmly neutral as they had during the Pariah test during Harry's second year.

For their first exam that day, the Potions Practical, the third years had to brew a Confusing Concoction, which did not thicken as it should have for Harry. Snape, hovering over Harry with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled a zero onto his notes before moving away. Once Harry had cleaned up his station, he had left the stuffy room feeling particularly miserable.

Slumped against a wall farther down the corridor to avoid being bothered, he ran a hand through his hair sighing. He looked up when a shadow fell over him, expecting Sally-Anne or Theodore. His face fell when he saw who it was

"What's the matter with you?" Draco said with the ever-present Crabbe and Goyle hovering behind him. As soon as the other teen had said that, he looked like he hadn't meant to say anything.

"Snape failed me," Harry groused.

"…Really? That's…" Draco hesitated again.

"What?" Harry said, "You don't think he'd fail me because I'm a Slytherin?"

"No, I glanced at your potion. It looked fine to me." Draco peered at him. "Did you peek at your grade?"

"You think I'd assume he failed me because he glared at me?" When Draco opened his mouth to respond, Harry said, "Yes, of course I looked. He gave me a zero."

"Zero what?"

"Zero points, you git… Shorthand for Troll? I failed worse than Crabbe."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other and then back to Harry. Crabbe opened his mouth, took a look at Draco, and said nothing.

Meanwhile, Draco's cheek had begun to twitch and then a nostril. He had obviously been practicing.

"I can hear you laughing, you ruddy git," Harry said miserably.

"Harry? What's wrong?" came a voice from his right. It was Sally-Anne, who looked between them uneasily. She probably thought they were about to come to blows.

"None of your business." He rubbed his face unhappily. He couldn't believe he failed Potions after all the time he'd spent in the greasy-haired bastard's smelly Potions Dungeon.

"He believes my godfather gave him zero points, shorthand for Troll," Draco said, his tone obnoxiously lighthearted. Harry glared at him.

A surprised burst of giggles exploded from Sally-Anne, startling Harry. "Oh… Oh poor you!" She said unable to contain herself.

"This is one of those 'fostering resentment' moments, isn't it?" Harry looked to her crossly, ignoring Draco's smug look.

"Well, think. I told you about Wizard grades yesterday, what does a zero look like to you?" She said.

Harry thought about it and thought some more, sore over being made fun of. He had to push his anger aside before he could figure it out. His eyes popped open in surprise. "I made an Outstanding!" He laughed with dizzying relief and was about to say a few choice words to Draco when he realized Draco and his two pawns had vanished.

"Yes! See? It's funny." Sally-Anne beamed at him.

"What's funny?"

Harry turned and nodded at Theodore.

"Harry mistook an O for zero points."

Theodore was still laughing when they entered into the Great Hall together for lunch.

"It's really not that funny," Harry repeated as Theodore giggled.

Lunch flew by, and then they headed to the windowless Ancient Runes classroom. The exam was nearly exactly as Sally-Anne had predicted. After they'd run the gamut of testing, Theodore turned to her. "Why aren't you in Divination? You have some Seer ability, don't you?"

"Because Professor Trelawney's methods are a waste of time for someone like me. I've had a dream journal ever since I was able to talk," she'd responded promptly.

"Ah, a Dream Seer. I suppose you inherited it from your mother…? She's a Rowle, a descendant of Morgana LeFay, right?"

Sally-Anne nodded.

"Morgana LeFay?" Harry asked shocked; he knew that name from the tales of King Arthur. "I had no idea."

"Nor did Draco. Once he realized that both of my parents were disowned from Pureblood families for being Squibs, he stopped treating me like a bug he needed to squash."

"So, why is your last name Perks?"

"My father was left with a Muggle Catholic orphanage. He was adopted by the Perks family."

That seemed odd to Harry. Judging by Malfoy and Parkinson, the Pureblood families didn't seem bad off to raise children. Why would they put a child up for adoption? Harry frowned in thought. Was it because Sally-Anne's dad turned out to be a Squib?

"—so I'll refuse, if either of my grandparents wanted me to take on their family name," Sally-Anne continued. "I think it's good for people to learn how to respect others even if they aren't part of the twenty-eight Pureblood families."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. There were only twenty-eight of them? That didn't seem like a lot.

"Her father's a Selwyn, one of the four known bloodlines of Merlin," Theodore added conspiratorially.

At Harry's dazed expression, Sally-Anne laughed even harder. That meant that Harry was distantly related to the great Merlin, too!

"Oh, we could definitely have 'Let's educate the Muggle-borns on the proper respect owed to Pureblood families' bent to the petition. That way it'd get unanimous approval by the school governors, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Sally-Anne said dabbing her eyes dry. "Oh, thank you, Harry. I haven't laughed so much until I met you."

"Neither have I," Theodore said. "Or, frankly, any of the other Slytherins. There's this doddering good-naturedness about you that made our housemates question your placement at first… and then you proved your placement with a ruthless resourcefulness that marks you as one of us. It's refreshing to see an Illume Arts-leaning Slytherin."

So, the fact that Harry had resented his placement hadn't been missed at all. "You don't think I'm cunning?"

"You're learning," and that was all Theodore would say about it no matter how many times Harry asked.

When Harry returned with them to the common room after dinner, he realized he'd forgotten all about the duel. The Dueling Stage had been set up and the entire Slytherin House had turned out to watch the special session.

Snape was already standing on one end with Draco, and at the other was Prefect Tellwyenth standing as Harry's second. As soon as Harry was on the stage, Gilbert asked them what the terms of the duel was, that is, what the winner gained when their opponent lost.

Announcing such things wasn't something that Harry had done before. He wondered if this was a formal duel… After all, the last duel of the term should have occurred before exams even started.

"I expect Draco to respect Muggles, Muggle-borns, and Half-bloods with the due earned of sharing our common heritage," Harry stated fiercely.

"I expect Harry to respect my opinions and alternate viewpoints," Draco said. He then moved to the center.

Drawing his own wand, Harry met him in the middle, and they saluted each other with a short bow, the first time they'd ever done it since their first duel. They returned to their positions in front of their seconds.

"You know the rules," Gilbert said, "Begin!"

"Cheerium!" Harry cried out casting it the same way as he had during his Charms exam as Draco cast the longer Jelly-Legs curse. Immediately, Draco burst into hysterical laughter and was completely at Harry's mercy. "Flipendo!" Harry cast with a slash of his wand at Draco, his eyes following his path to the floor.

Draco was flung off his feet by the Knockback Jinx. His wand had been dropped on the stage. Even though he'd lost, Draco continued to laugh hysterically.

Snape looked at his godson with disgust and then said as if the words pained him, "Potter has won the duel." He swiped the air, removing the charm's effects from Draco.

Harry flourished his wand in a very Gilderoy-like manner and took a bow, knowing it would irritate the bastard further.

"Oh, yes. Go on and gloat, you arrogant idiot. Should we expect you to strut around too? You're just like your father."

"My father didn't strut." The black rage was beginning to filter into his head again. "And neither do I!"

"Your father was a rule-breaker because he believed a small amount of talent made him a cut above the rest and invincible," Snape went on, his thin face full of malice. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners."

"SHUT UP!" Harry shouted. He heard the collective gasp from his housemates… and a feeling of dread descended upon him.

"Challenge accepted, Potter," Snape said nastily.

"But... But I didn't—"

"Ah, perhaps you should have learned the proper dueling protocol," he drawled. "Insults or blatant disrespect is taken as a direct challenge on a dueling stage… and as Draco's second I never conceded the right to duel you."

Harry closed his mouth as his heart pounded. He'd seen Snape in action on his birthday last year; there wasn't any way for Harry to win the duel when he couldn't perform wordless magic yet.

"Of course, if you were to request a handicap…" Snape chuckled darkly. "To better your odds, then I may or may not choose to abide by it."

His chest was hurting, and his palms were sweaty. "I request that…" Harry faltered. "The use of wordless magic is prohibited."

The bored Death Eater flicked his fingers, drawing his wand. "Handicap accepted, Potter."

Behind Harry, Gilbert said, "What are your terms, gentlemen?"

"Mr. Harry James Potter will obey the rules I set down to the letter and spirit that I expect from all other Slytherins."

Harry didn't even know if Snape had a middle name. "Professor… Severus Snape will stop bullying his non-Slytherin Potions students."

Snape gave him a flat look of contempt as if that was the last thing he expected and a very silly request. Harry ground his jaw down, knowing exactly what the greasy-haired bastard expected. It would be stupid to request that the Death Eater would stop being an overprotective nanny because he'd find a loophole like he had when he'd kept Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

The room was totally silent as Harry and their Head of House met at the center of the stage, bent forward slowly, and saluted one another. Snape's eyes were piercing black, merciless. Harry met them even though he'd really rather go crawl in a hole full of hungry red caps.

Once they were back at their starting places, Harry watched Snape stand in his dueling form, the same he'd used with Lockhart the previous year.

"Begin!"

Like a whipcrack, Snape's wand slashed outwards in a motion similar to Harry's favorite jinx and his voice rang, "FLIPENDO DUO!"

"Protego!" The shield held up only enough to take the much stronger Knockback Jinx. Harry found he was unable to reflect the extremely heavy spell towards Snape. In fact, he slid back a few inches just blocking it. "Everte Sta—"

"DEPRIMO!" Snape did a complicated swirl with the end of his wand which stopped with a sudden drop.

"PROTEGO!" Harry cast his perfected Shield Charm against the Crushing Jinx, and the stage crumpled under the weight despite the Hardening Charm on it; as soon as the spells had dissipated, Harry shouted, "Stupefy!"

But Snape cast his own Shield Charm which scattered Harry's spell into harmless fragments of light with a lazy drawl. "Is this the best we can expect from the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"STUPEFY!" The spell sparked against the shield that the adult had lazily cast again.

"You are an arrogant one-trick pony, Potter. Do you really believe you stand a chance against me?"

Blinding black fury roared through Harry, and then something unusual happened. Harry lifted his wand, swishing it idly, and hissed out, "Homenum—"

"Protego Maxima!" Snape's Shield Charm blossomed larger.

"—Inflamarae!" Distantly, Harry knew it was not a spell he had ever practiced before.

And the black flames did not breach the protective, crystalline bubble. And then, "Fianto Duri!" The shield around the one who dared to challenge him brightened, taking on a greenish hue, as Harry stepped into another wandform that was nearly as easy and direct as the Disarming Charm.

Harry snarled out, "CONFRINGO!" Snape's shield accepted the Blasting Curse as if it were a pesky beetle flying into an oncoming car.

Disturbed by what was happening, the small voice in the back of his head asked a rather annoying word: How? Another sinister, hissing voice, echoing from the depths of Harry's mind, answered, It doesn't matter **how**. No one speaks to me this way! Still empty of anything but anger and wrath, Harry giggled as he brought his wand up, enacting a rather complex wandform as if it were second nature.

"Protego Horribilis!" came Snape's shout.

"EXPULSO!" Harry screamed flinging the Imploding Curse at the Potions Master. Part of Snape's shield wobbled and collapsed, leaving a hole where it'd hit.

This one is **worthy**, rasped the voice, and then the rage that had blotted nearly everything out receded.

Blinking furiously at the disintegrating Shield Charm in front of him, Harry's fingers trembled as he panted. His scar was hurting. That's not—I couldn't have, Harry's mind stuttered. He stared at his shaking wand like it was a stranger. It was not normal for him to cast magic flawlessly without practice. After all he'd only read of those curses; how could he have possibly—

"My, my. What Advanced Dark magic, Potter," Snape sneered, "I didn't think you had it in you…"

Harry went white as a sheet. If the adult had chosen to reflect any of the spells, Harry's housemates might've been explosive balls of fire, blasted into smithereens, or sucked into a vacuum bomb. Harry was fighting down panic, completely forgetting where he was. "Sir, I—"

"Not so noble, are you? Filling your head with dangerous and destructive curses. You practiced until you reached optimal efficiency and lethal perfection of spellwork. Did you never imagine that you'd lose your temper, Potter?" Snape's voice was deathly cold.

Harry didn't know what he could say. He didn't think 'Sorry, I didn't know those spells' would cut it because one simply couldn't cast without full knowledge of the spell. It wasn't possible; it wasn't supposed to be possible.

The Death Eater's words cut through the utter silence of the common room. "Had you unleashed your wrath on another opponent… the dearly departed's family would have received a salve jar filled with sooty residue."

Hearing that, a strange separateness overcame Harry. He no longer felt the calculating eyes of his housemates; it was a state of horror so advanced that Harry's thoughts had become stuck like a clock whose drive gear continued even when the chain of sprockets linking it to the hand had been broken.

"Cantis!" Snape flicked his wand like a conductor's baton and suddenly Harry was compelled to sing 'God Save the Queen', much to the laughter of his fellow Slytherins. The strange jam of thoughts came loose, and Harry's face heated in humiliation.

With a flick, the rapidly deteriorating Shield Charm was terminated. Snape tutted loudly. "There are many ways to win a duel besides overpowering your opponent. I will tell you one: Holster your wand and bow if you wish to submit to your better."

Refusing to yield so easily, Harry waved his wand and attempted a wordless Knockback Jinx. When nothing happened, he tried a Throwing Hex, and then a Tickling Charm, followed by a Dancing Feet Spell. Each time with perfect wand form, but for some reason none of them would work when he silently used the incantations inside his head. The patriotic song had finished and then he began singing 'Happy Birthday'.

"Let me give you extra incentive. Anteoculatia." Snape twisted his wrist jerkily, pointing it at Harry's head.

Immediately, tall antlers twisted up, forming from Harry's black hair, and was greeted warmly by more laughter. Harry had never felt more humiliated as he tried to stand up straight with the extra weight on his head. Harry's face turned pink as he gasped for breath forcing the tears back mercilessly.

"Might I recommend you surrender before you embarrass yourself further by fainting?"

Finishing the song, Harry began to softly singing a lullaby that he didn't recognize. It made him feel warm—

"Flipendo," came Snape's even tone.

Something lightly pushed him off-balance, and Harry toppled off the stage, still tenderly humming in between the words unable to stop.

"I concede the duel to my better," Gilbert said graciously, "Harry Potter has lost. The demands placed on him will be followed."

With two swipes of his wand, Snape wordlessly canceled the spells on an exhausted Harry. "A piece of advice, Potter. You do not have the smallest hope of beating a challenger so long as they have greater emotional maturity than you currently possess."

Still on the cold floor, Harry stared at the pattern of dark grey and black flagstones, forcing the tears back. He pressed his forehead against the ground, the cool stone a balm on his scar.

By the time Harry had looked up again, the git had already banished the dueling stage, entered his office, and slammed the door shut. His housemates had dispersed.

A pale hand floated into view.

Snubbing Draco's hand, Harry sat up shakily. He'd never felt so drained before, not even when he was learning the Patronus Charm. Harry leaned against his knees when his wobbly legs refused to let him up. He brushed his fringe down self-conciously.

"You're like a newly born colt," Draco commented.

Wondering where Sally-Anne and Theodore had gone off to, Harry glared up at him. "I don't like you." What would they think to have seen such Dark Magic performed by him? Maybe Harry had scared his two friends as badly as he had scared himself.

"You'll move on or we'll duel again. Though I wager you'll think twice about challenging me, Harry."

Draco had planned this with Snape, Harry suddenly realized. He'd planned for this to happen! It was Draco's fault. "You twit."

"Please. You say that like you hate it." The other teen let out a little laugh. "I gave you the chance to fight my godfather on your own terms."

"You're mad if you think I wanted that!"

"Then why are you less frustrated?"

Blinking, Harry looked up hesitantly. Was he less frustrated? Draco offered a hand again, but Harry looked away from it, clutching his knees.

"Would you like some salve for your bruised ego, your Grace?"

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped.

"Why not?"

"I'm not a duke!"

Draco let out a little, disappointed sigh. "Don't you realize how amazing you are?"

"There's nothing special about me." And Harry wanted to believe it, desperately. He wasn't sure what had happened during the duel with Snape after he'd gotten so angry, but it was wrong; something was wrong with him.

"Nobody has ever put my godfather on the defense during a duel, not even my father." Draco paused for a moment as if he might correct himself, but then said, "Didn't you ever think it was strange that a Half-Blood was given Godfather status over the only heir of an important family?"

Harry shook his head, pressing a hand against the sore scar on his forehead. He wasn't thinking much of anything. He especially didn't want to think of how he knew how to cast such horribly Dark magic. "It was a fluke I made it so far. He beat me."

"I wasn't talking about your pathetic endgame. After you exhausted yourself, you were a sitting duck." Draco tsked, "Even beginners know not to go all-out too early."

"I hate you."

"So you keep telling me," came the light tone.

They sat there together in silence, until Harry was able to go back to the dormitory under his own power. With a smirk, Draco followed.

* * *

The next morning, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Exam had been an obstacle course using all the Dark creatures they'd face previously—excepting a real dementor. At the end, Harry faced his boggart-dementor using a Ludicrous Charm.

"Excellent, Harry," Professor Lupin muttered as Harry passed. "Full marks."

Flushed with his success—and lingering muscle fatigue from the duel yesterday—he hung around to watch the others successfully get through. Only Crabbe had gotten confused by the hinkypunk's misleading directions and ended up in waist-high quagmire and Goyle had been thwarted by the McGonagall-boggart who kept screaming at him to open his 'Inner Eye!' Everyone else had done admirably all the way through.

Lunch went by in a blur with Theodore and Sally-Anne who never mentioned the duel from the night before, and then the last exam of the semester, Herbology, occurred in the baking sun; the third years did all sorts of planting and re-potting before they penned in answers to a single parchment full of questions. By the time Harry had finished, his neck had become completely sunburned.

They went inside the cool, dark castle once again. Theodore offered Harry some salve to clear up his painful, pink skin and Harry accepted with thanks. He slathered it onto the affected areas and within moments the pain had gone away.

Once he returned to the dormitory and opened his trunk, his heart nearly stopped. He'd forgotten all about Salazar Slytherin's request! He grabbed the letter opener Pansy had given him and the books he borrowed from Prefect Dedworth and left without answering his roommates' questions. He hurried through the common room and past the portrait. Turning down the corridor, he tapped the wall with his wand, "The greatest knowledge is meaningless without integrity," he hissed.

The wall slid slightly aside, and Harry squeezed through, calling up light from his wand to help him see. At the other end, he passed into the larger chamber and the wall slid shut behind him.

"Harry Potter," Salazar Slytherin said, "Wes hāl."

"Sorry," Harry said, hurrying over as the fire jumped up in each of the holders along the wall. "Sort of forgot. Hope you aren't angry. You don't look angry." Harry stood in front of the painting.

"Ic þæt ne undergiete," Slytherin said in that strange almost-German language and then harrumphed. He steepled his pointy-nailed hands together. "Doing much mischief, have you?"

Harry's cheeks colored.

"A little of Godric must reside in your bloodline. Attracting trouble was a great skill of his."

"People have said that I inherited it from my dad… I've seen photos and I do look a lot like him."

"Photos? Are these paintings?"

"Er, no. They are photographs. There's this box that you point at people and it captures the image, and puts it on paper without painting and it looks exactly like the person. They react to you and move in the same way over and over again, but only with a short period and they don't talk back." Harry only knew the last part because he'd tried before. "I can bring you a photo album next time…" Harry held the books up for him. "Where did you want these?"

Salazar Slytherin pointed at a large wooden podium too big to move by hand. "Levitate that to a place before me."

Harry thought a moment since it was not one of the usual objects he'd levitated in Professor Flitwick's class before. He drew his wand and pointed it without moving, concentrating. "Mobilipodium." It didn't move. "Mobilipodius." This time it lifted, and Harry tipped his wand up slowly pointing it until the podium had floated to a place in front of the painting. With a thump it landed, since the levitation spell was only a temporary effect.

"Well done. So that both may open at once, place the books side by side with space between."

"I'm not sure how much French has changed since you were around… but these were recommended by a language lover."

After Harry placed them, the books suddenly opened to the very first page. The title of the first one was Dictionnaire Français-Anglais: Vocabulaire Anglais essentiel-~-English-French dictionary: Essential French Vocabulary.

Beneath that were statements one beneath the other:  
Includes The Terminology of Today! Highlights Canadian Terms  
Retrouvez la terminologie d'aujourd'hui! Comprend le Français du Canada

The other title was Grammaire Français-Anglais - English-French Grammatica and was plain in comparison.

Slytherin stroked his beard thoughtfully as he looked at them. "Some words to be explained, but these will suffice splendidly for now."

"Do I need to turn the pages?"

The bald wizard smiled and moved to the side in the painting where a podium had appeared with two books. He turned a page of the dictionary in the painting and the real one turned a page.

"That's brilliant," Harry said in English.

"Ic þe þancie," Slytherin replied.

"Did you just tell me thanks?"

"Than-kahs? Gese," Slytherin's expression was amused.

"Yes?" Harry queried.

"Yeh-zeh," the portrait said again more slowly.

"What's no?"

"Hwæt'ss nese?"

"No is neh-zeh," Harry stated.

"Nese is no," Slytherin responded, his eyes gazing at him shrewdly.

Harry blinked realizing that the Founder must use a really old form of English. "Is Eng-li-sheh… Old English?"

"Englisce is Auld Eng-lish," Salazar agreed.

"If I had known I would've asked for Old English to English books!" Harry shook his head at himself. He should have thought of that. He'd already read quite a bit of the varied wars, both Muggle and Wizard, in Western Europe, so it'd made sense if the original language of England would be affected that.

"What is that in your hand?" The Founder asked him abruptly.

"It's rumored to be your letter opener."

Slytherin laughed as if he'd meant it as a joke. "It is an opener of sorts, but not usually for letters. Use the phrase," Slytherin said an incomprehensible string of words. The only part of which Harry caught was 'to'.

"More slowly please?"

Slytherin harrumphed, but Harry was able to form a likeness to what he was supposed to repeat. Immediately the snake's emerald eyes twinkled and then its silver body which made up the handle squirmed. Harry very nearly dropped it.

"I, who belonged to Salazar Slytherin and forged by Shardclasp, am yours to command."

Harry looked up at the painting from the talking letter opener. "That's bloody brilliant."

"Now say: Yuh-man to yu-theh."

Slightly worried about what was about to happen, Harry repeated the phrase.

The snake coiled and thickened in Harry's hand and then the short blade shot out, flaring at the edges. The letter opener had become a rather unwieldy sword in his hands. There was now a black hilt-guard and the snake's jaw was wrapped around a large round emerald. Harry gaped at it. "She's beautiful."

"Now say: Slæp, sweord."

"Sleep, sword," Harry told the snake. The blade retracted like a cat's claw and Harry was left with a heavy letter opener. "Wicked!"

"Now. Go away. Learning a new language requires time and concentration."

"Er…"

Salazar Slytherin looked up sharply from his books. "Yehz?"

"School term's almost over, so I won't be here again until September First…" Harry tried not to feel unnerved when another page on the podium was turned. He'd never seen a painting manipulate the real world before.

"Bēo gesund, Harry Potter."

"Bay-oh yeh-soond, Mr. Slytherin," Harry parroted, thinking it meant goodbye. The bald-headed Slytherin was reading the grammar book with a look of intense focus. Harry left through the sliding wall again, wondering what he was going to do with Slytherin's sword.

"Harry!" Someone whispered behind him.

He turned. "Hermione?"

"It is murder trying to find you alone." The Gryffindor eyed him up and down. "What's that in your hand?"

"A letter opener. I received it from Pansy for my birthday. It detects poison."

"I suppose you'd have to watch out for that at meals," Hermione said, looking a bit green.

"Er. Why were you looking for me?"

"Oh! Did you forget that you were invited for tea? It's tonight."

Harry gave her an embarrassed smile. "Yes, I forgot. As much as I'd like to, I can't."

She blinked at him. "Well. Why can't you?"

"It's complicated." Harry didn't want to get into details about losing the duel to Snape.

"You'll have to tell me later then."

Not likely, Harry thought.

"Dinner's being served in the Great Hall. Thought you might like to know since Snape gives you detention when you miss."

"Will you walk with me?"

"I don't see why not."

After many turns with Hermione chatting about esoteric Runic Patterns that she found fascinating and Harry wasn't so interested in, they stepped into the main corridor of the dungeon. Hermione finally took a breath, and Harry said, "Would you tell me how you're in Arithmancy and Divination?"

"I dropped out of Divination a couple weeks ago," she informed him primly.

"Oh. Then, how are you taking Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies at once?"

Hermione's eyes shifted for a brief second. "I can't say."

"Can't," he parroted.

"It's complicated," she said with an impish grin. Harry thought that like him she wouldn't reveal what it was.

"Does it involve time-traveling?"

Her smile faltered and went tight as if it were great effort to maintain. "If you don't want your mind addled, I'd keep your theories to yourself."

Harry fell silent at that. Did that mean it existed but was heavily restricted? It didn't take a genius to figure out why that would be. Harry's first thought had been to go back in time and murder Voldemort. It wasn't a huge stretch to think that others were unhappy with their lot in life and also wished to change how things had happened.

Hermione nervously began to fill the silence about how she thought she might've only gotten an E on her Astronomy final because she thought she made an incorrect calculation on her star chart creating an opposition between Jupiter and Saturn when there wasn't any. Harry let her talk even though his own calculations said that there was an opposition. No one was in sight. At the end of the corridor, Harry turned the corner and climbed the stairs with her.

In the Entrance Hall, Salazar Slytherin's portrait showed his back to the viewers as he continued to study.

"Wess haal!" Harry called out.

Slytherin snorted without raising his head. "Gōdne ǣfen, Harry Potter."

"Goad-neh ay-ven, Mr. Slytherin," Harry responded.

Hermione spluttered beside him.

"What?" He asked.

"According to Hogwarts, A History, none of the Founders' paintings have spoken to a living person since Headmaster Alfric Mondfrey in 1435! They simply aren't in their paintings in the Headmaster's Study!"

"You mean each of the Founders has a painting?" Harry continued across the room towards the doors of the Great Hall.

Hermione sighed. "You really ought to read that book, especially since ancient Magical artifacts are coming to life around you. I know I would."

"I'll look into it," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Later," Hermione agreed, and then they split ways.

Harry sat down next to Theodore, who'd been talking to Sally-Anne. Once he'd filled his plate and ate several bites of food, Sally-Anne asked, "Where were you?"

"Wandering around in the dungeons," he said.

"Worried about poison?"

"Er. Poison?"

Theodore pointed at the letter opener still in Harry's hand.

"We followed you when you left the portrait-hole," Sally-Anne said, "But lost you after you turned into the dead-end."

Harry hesitated.

"What'd you find?" Theodore asked.

"Slytherin's Personal Study."

Their eyes grew wide, and they exchanged a glance.

"So," Theodore began nonchalantly, "Is the letter opener a key?"

"Wha—no. It's not. There's a password to his study in Parseltongue."

Their eyes kept flicking to the letter opener as if guessing its true purpose. Harry let out a sigh. "This… is a sword," he told them.

"I've heard of Slytherin's Locket… but nothing of a sword…" Sally-Anne said.

"That's right," Theodore added, "When you hear of a Founder's sword you think of Godric Gryffindor."

"Well, if Slytherin and Gryffindor were friends—"

"Friends?" Sally-Anne repeated with disbelief, while Theodore exclaimed, "They were mortal enemies!"

"I thought so too," Harry said to them. "But when I talked to Slytherin's painting—"

"You talked to him?" Sally-Anne's tone had grown tight with awe.

"Are you going to let me finish?"

"Pardon my disrespect, your Grace, I meant no offense," she said.

Irritated by the title, Harry rubbed his face. "He referred to Godric Gryffindor as 'Godric' and sounded like they were generally on good terms. He even said I somewhat reminded him of Godric and it didn't sound like an insult."

"I suppose next you'll tell us that Slytherin wasn't a blood purist," Draco's voice hovered next to him sarcastically.

"His exact words? 'Absolute codswallop'," Harry told Draco. "And you shouldn't be eavesdropping on people."

Draco snorted. "Find one of Slytherin's journals and then we'll put that controversy to rest. It's unfortunate that they've been missing for nearly five hundred years. Everything we know about our House's Founder is from either the other Founders or his sponsors' accounts and everyone knows perception is a matter of opinion."

"Next time I'm in his study I'll look for them."

"…You found Slytherin's Study?"

"You all act like this is an accomplishment."

"No one has set foot in that revered space since Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts in 1022," came Draco's dry remark.

"Are you going to let the rest of us see it?" Theodore wiggled excitedly.

"Maybe next year when he isn't studying modern English." Harry took another bite of a roll.

"You mean to say that not only have you rediscovered a path into Slytherin's Study but you have also spoken to a portrait that went inactive over half a millenium ago? I thought you weren't his Heir?" Draco said in an accusatory tone.

"He said I wasn't a direct descendant if I couldn't control the basilisk," Harry informed him. "So technically I'm not his heir."

"You might as bloody well call yourself the long-lost Great-Nephew of Slytherin."

Harry noticed quite abruptly that the Slytherins around him had stopped chatting amongst themselves. He was horribly reminded of his start-of-year feast his first year. "Look, that's enough," Harry said quietly. "I want to finish my meal without interruption." He looked pointedly at his housemates and many of them found other things to eat or talk about.

"Of course." Draco backed into a slight bow and sauntered down the table.

At a peculiar sensation, Harry looked up at the High Table. Snape's beetle-black eyes were staring at him. Harry dropped his gaze and imagined locking his cupboard again and the tickling sense faded away. "Don't read my thoughts," he grumbled before he stuck a large apple in his mouth and chomped down.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I was talking to myself, Theo."

"Oh, carry on then."

Harry really would have liked to have a cuppa with Hagrid that evening. It was too bad he had lost the duel... Though... had he won it, Snape might have been sent to St. Mungo's.

The Slytherin suddenly found he had very little appetite after that.

* * *

**_Afterword:_**_ Old English again. Keep in mind the words change depending on if you are referring to male or female or single person or a group._

_Wes hāl = Wess haal = Hello_

_Ic þæt ne undergiete = I don't understand_

_Ic þe þancie = I thank you._

_Gese = Yeh-zeh = Yes_

_Hwæt= What_

_Nese is no = Neh-zeh is no = No is no_

_Englisce is Auld Eng-lish = English is Old English_

_Guman to guþe = Yuh-man to yu-theh = Warriors to Battle_

_Slæp, sweord = Sleep, sword_

_Beo gesund = Bay-oh yeh-soond = Goodbye_

_Gōdne __ǣ__fen = Goad-neh ay-ven = Good evening_


	19. A Gifted Memory

**_Author's Notes: _**_I will post the next two chapters in the next two days!_

* * *

After he'd placed Slytherin's 'letter opener' into his pouch carefully so that it didn't immediately tear a hole through the bottom, Harry went down to the dungeons with everyone else. On this occasion, Sally-Anne and Theodore had their heads together to his left, while he was hugging the wall of the stairwell on his right. Just as he turned the corner from the stairs, someone pulled him into a dark, shadowy corridor. At first he thought it was the Weasley twins, but they weren't anywhere in sight. "Hello?"

A light bobbed curiously and then disappeared. It reappeared farther down the hall. Harry glanced over his shoulder and trotted after it. He simply couldn't not check it out. He followed the light all the way to the other side of the school.

He stepped onto the covered bridge and found he could go no farther. The light bobbed at the end of the bridge, beckoning him. He pushed his right foot forward, but it felt like coming against a brick wall. Was this how it had been like for Draco whenever he had tried to use 'Mudblood' as a curse?

"Harry?"

He spun around. "Theo?"

The stringy teen gave him a mildly curious look. "You're not supposed to be outside of the castle."

"Not alone as per the letter and spirit of Snape's rules," Harry said as he tried moving forward again. This time he had no difficulty whatsoever doing so. "Thanks for coming along."

Theodore chuckled. "Just as long as we stay on the grounds and out of the Forbidden Forest, a little walk shouldn't—"

There was a loud shout. The Slytherins exchanged a look unholstering their wands and ran across the bridge.

"Wait, Neville!" Hermione yelled from afar. "NEVILLE!"

Theodore and Harry jumped out of the walkway towards the bushy-haired witch, passing the remembrance marker for Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand.

There stood the Whomping Willow, and Neville was within pounding range.

"Scabbers, you bit me," they could hear Neville tell the rat as if it were a naughty child.

"Neville, that tree!" Harry cried out.

Neville swung his head up and then whimpered.

"RUN!" Theodore screamed.

But Neville lifted a pointing finger behind them. "HARRY, HERMIONE, NOTT, BEHIND YOU!"

They spun around and saw a giant black dog.

"Oh, this is _not_ good," Theodore said, stepping back into a stance

Hermione took out her wand as well, a determined look on her face. "Here's you proof, Harry. We just need to Stun him!"

Harry wasn't sure what she was talking about.

The black dog growled and suddenly charged them.

"_Stupefy!"_ Harry cried out, missing the Animagus.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione cast, also missing Black, but they weren't apparently his target. The fleet-footed dog darted right past them for Neville.

"_STUPEFY!_" Theodore's spell singed the dog's hair on its right flank.

Instead of running or pulling out his wand, Neville sat there frozen with a fat, wriggling rat in his hand. Sirius Black the dog grabbed the Gryffindor by his shoe and dragged him towards the base of the violent tree like a rag doll.

"HARRY!" Neville screamed with a half-sob, his free hand dragging along the grass.

The trio ran towards them. Harry couldn't fire a spell without risking Neville. "NEVILLE!" He threw himself forward, running as fast as he could.

"HELP!" Sliding on his back, Neville was swiftly approaching the dark hole at the base of the frozen tree. The Whomping Willow had already been paralyzed!

"_Petrificus—"_

"No, don't! If you miss—!" Hermione yelled out.

_"—Totalus Duo!"_ Theodore's spell was dodged by Black and placed Neville into a Full-Body Bind. This ultimately made it easier for Black because Neville was no longer struggling.

Ignoring Hermione's shriek, Harry leaped for Neville and caught hold of Neville's robes at his shoulders, but Harry's sweaty grip slipped before Hermione and Theodore could help him, and the Gryffindor with terrified eyes was taken into the darkness.

"Shite, shite, shite," Theodore said, breathing hard as they stared down at the dark hole.

There was a loud creaking sound in the background. Harry frowned.

Hermione looked at each of them. "We need to get back to the castle and tell—"

"DUCK!" Harry bellowed, realizing the creaking was the Whomping Willow ready to bludgeon them to a pulp.

They dove forward onto the ground just as a large branch and nearly swept them away. "Come on!" Harry grabbed Hermione's arm, tugging her to follow his lead. She didn't, stealing her arm away from his weak grip, and he jumped into the darkness below. Theodore jumped in after.

They heard her scream as the tree bowed over creaking ominously.

"Hermione! Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine! I'm going to get help!" She cried. "You two stay put!

Harry bloody wasn't going to do that, not when someone was in danger. He held his wand as high it would go before hitting the ceiling, "_Lumos!"_

There was a sort of small entrance area, enough for a few more people to fit in. The entire area must be highly Enchanted to keep the Whomping Willow's roots from penetrating the spot where they stood and skewering them in a grisly manner. There were only two directions: Back out the way they came or forward through the tunnel without a light at the end.

"We need a plan."

"The plan is to go and rescue Neville."

"I don't like that plan. Black's liable to ask for you to remain as hostage—"

"Too bad!" Harry yelled over his shoulder as he jogged with a perpetual crouch down the earthen passageway, reminded of the One-Eyed Witch Passage…

Angry guilt plagued him. He should've told the headmaster that Black was an Animagus, and then maybe he wouldn't be thinking of what Black might be doing to Neville or how he might use Neville as leverage to force Harry to do things for him. He doggedly jogged forward, determined to get Neville out of this mess. Just as he started to develop a pain in his side and neck from running with a strange posture, the ceiling began to rise.

Dirt gave way to the planks of an old cellar without a door. "_Nox_," Harry said. He used the dim light spilling from above to guide him.

He could hear Theodore's wheezing, distant pants from the darkness, but his roommate didn't ask him to wait or slow down.

Harry threw himself up the ladder and climbed out into a hallway, where the paper was peeling from the walls. There were menacing dark stains all over the floor. The house itself leaned as a draft blew through the cracks. He wasn't sure exactly where he was.

Taking the crumbling and half-rotted stairs, Harry paused at the top landing. Every piece of furniture was broken, ripped into large chunks of wood and upholstery, and the windows were boarded up. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, except for the floor where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs. If Harry hadn't noticed that, he certainly wouldn't have noticed the muddy set of big paw prints beside it transforming into six muddy footsteps that continued through the closed door.

Wand held tightly before him, Harry slowly moved towards the door where he could hear Neville say something with a quavering tone and Scabbers squealing.

"Shut up!" A man yelled. Both Neville and the rat stopped. Harry was glad he hadn't burst in because only a wand could have reversed the Binding spell on Neville.

The Bewitched watch on his forearm went cold, and a hand touched Harry's arm; spinning, he shoved his wand into Professor Lupin's startled face. Surprised, Harry dropped the wand and reluctantly stepped aside. He looked around. Where was Theodore?

Wand held beside him, Professor Lupin didn't wait to kick the door open, "_Expelliarmus!"_

A wand went flying out the room, and Harry collected it. He rolled it in his palm, recognizing it as Neville's.

Black began to cackle madly.

_"_Well, well, Sirius," Professor Lupin said. "Looking rather ragged, aren't we?"

Harry crept in behind him, holding his wand up. Black's eyes were shining out of deep, dark sockets with waxy skin stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. It looked as if he hadn't slept for days.

"Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within," Professor Lupin said dryly.

"Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you Remus?" Black grinned his yellowed, rotting teeth in a friendly manner.

Harry's brain could not process what he was seeing when Professor Lupin dropped the light brown wand trained on Black, offered a hand to the convicted man, and helped him up. The skinny, wild-eyed Black wrapped his arms around Professor Lupin tightly, and he returned the embrace. "I found him, Remus!"

"I know."

"He's here!" Black's voice was hoarse as he'd begun to cry happily. "Let's _kill_ him!"

"No!" Harry shouted. Just as they turned to him with equally surprised looks, he cried out, "_Expelliarmus!"_

Professor Lupin's wand flew right out of his hand, rolling to Neville.

"Pick it up, Neville," Harry said evenly his wand and Neville's trained on the adults. Neville picked up the stick of wood, staring at it instead of making use of it. "I trusted you, kept your secret," Harry said lowly, "And all this time, you've been helping him."

"No, I haven't been," Lupin said wearily, "If you'll give me a chance to explain—"

"What secret?" Neville asked Harry.

"The reason why he's been missing class every time there's a full moon."

Neville gasped loudly, squeezing Scabbers tightly in his grip. The rat squealed. "He's a… he's a werewolf?!"

Giggling giddily, Black was weaving on his feet. Professor Lupin was giving Harry a stern look.

"_Black's_ the reason my parents, your friends, are dead! He betrayed them to Voldemort!" Harry screamed as the anger and the rage he'd been suppressing sprang forward. His scar tingled, while he jabbed his wand at Sirius Black. Wind caused the house to moan and shudder, boards shrieking as air pressed past. "And you've protected him, kept him here!"

"No, Harry, it wasn't him," Professor Lupin said. His face was creased with exhaustion.

"THEN WHO SPOKE THEIR SECRET? WHO KILLED MY MUM AND DAD?!" The breeze was now a gale causing the entire building to shiver and shake. Dust dropped from the cracks in the ceiling.

Lupin raised his hands in a gentling manner. "Harry," He said, "The person responsible is somebody, until quite recently, we both believed to be dead."

"Peter Pettigrew _is_ dead!" Harry shouted back. "The map is broken! Sirius Black vaporized him twelve years ago!" He had his wand trained on Black's chest, imagining which curse he'd use to blast him to pieces.

"No, little Peter got the best of me that night..." The madman whispered, his vocal chords sounding as if he'd eaten a great deal of sand and glass, "The Marauder's Map is tied right into Hogwarts ancient wards… If it was broken, it wouldn't work at all."

"How would _you_ know?" Harry asked sharply.

Rocking back on his feet, Sirius laughed out a bark. "I helped make it. _I'm _Padfoot."

Harry was blinking furiously, trying to make sense of the information, and then decided he didn't need to know that. "You're trying to confuse me." He aimed the wand at Black's heart. "You, the both of you, want to kill Neville—"

The Gryffindor moaned.

"That's why you broke into Gryffindor Tower. You want to kill him."

"No—" Lupin began, but Sirius's emaciated hand made a cutting motion.

"Are you going to murder me, Harry?" The madman's chuckle rasped in the back of his throat. "I wonder what James would think to see you turn Dark."

"I can cast a decent Imploding Curse, unless you'd prefer being consumed by flames until you're nothing but ash," Harry said, his wand steady.

Black stared at him out of those sunken, dead-looking eyes.

"You never heard them… my mum and dad trying to protect me…" Harry's throat constricted. "Trying to stop Voldemort from killing me…"

"I..." The Azkaban escapee's voice cracked with remorse. "I don't deny that they are dead because of me."

"_Then_ y_ou did it! You sold them out to Voldemort_!" Harry punched the wand towards him, and a wind blew harder through the room without touching Harry.

"No, _never_! NEVER!" Black spat out viciously, face contorted in fury and disgust. "You want proof? He's in this very room! Right now!" He pointed at Neville.

Neville held Ron's scrabbling rat tightly against his chest. "Me? I'm not—"

"Not you!" The madman scoffed. "_That rat_!"

The Gryffindor gave him a bewildered expression as if Black had completely lost his trolley.

"He's missing a toe. Front right paw?"

Lifting Scabbers, Neville checked. "Crikey…" He looked very ill.

Understanding dawned as the idea trickled into Harry's mind. If Lupin was a werewolf and Black was an Animagus…

"Dirty coward cut his finger, so everyone would think he was dead! And then, before I could curse him, he blew the street apart with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself, and then—"

"He turned into a rat?"

"_Yes_!" Black let out a half-strangled sob, "If only I'd known he was the spy feeding Voldemort information on Lily and James for an entire year! I would have never convinced them to use Peter instead… _It's my fault they're dead_."

"If you were innocent, why did you wait so long to break out? Why now?" Professor Lupin, who had been so quiet between Harry and Black's exchange, asked thunderstruck.

Black reached into his robes and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He tried to smooth the dirty thing out and then showed it to them. "Finding the _right_ common garden rat would have been next to impossible."

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ the previous summer, and there on Ron's shoulder was Scabbers, with a missing toe. But if it hadn't been about Snape at all, then why had Black attacked them in Hogsmeade?

"How did you get that?" Harry's professor had his full attention on his friend. It was obvious he craved to give the other man the benefit of the doubt. Neither seemed that concerned that Harry still had two wands trained on them.

"Fudge," Black answered, "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper."

A jet of red light shot through the door.

Sirius Black went stiff and dropped to the floor right in front of Neville.

"That's got to hurt," Neville whispered, freezing when the embodiment of his greatest fear prowled in.

"Ah, vengeance is sweet," Snape drawled, sneering at the fugitive on the floor. "How I hoped I'd be the one to catch you." His eyes raked over Harry and then settled on the other adult.

Professor Lupin brought his arms up tightly against his body, approaching him slowly. "Severus…"

Snape turned the wand on him, silencing him without a spell. "I _told_ Dumbledore you were helping a friend into the castle. Here's the proof. Another for Azkaban tonight."

Professor Lupin was backed against the shuttered window. "Severus, don't be hasty—"

The sallow-faced Potions Master pressed the wand against Professor Lupin's throat. "Give me a reason to dispatch you and you will be dead before moonrise. Dumbledore was quite convinced you know… believed you were a harmless, _tame_ werewolf."

"Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?" Professor Lupin asked softly.

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around the professor's mouth, wrists, and ankles; the DADA professor overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move.

"Professor Snape," Harry said, dropping his wands in a non-threatening manner, "Ron's secondhand rat, Scabbers, is an Animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

"Be quiet, Potter. You are facing expulsion."

"But if we bring the rat to Dumbledore it would prove that Sirius is innocen—"

A few red sparks shot out of Snape's wand, the first sign of accidental magic Harry had ever seen from an adult. "DON'T. TALK, _POTTER_. YOU WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND," Snape exploded. There was a glint of madness in those beady black eyes.

Harry swallowed, feeling the rush of adrenaline course through him. He needed to think fast.

The Potions Master waved a wand at Black and his body began to levitate. With a click of his fingers, the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "Come along, Longbottom and Potter," he said more calmly, "There are hundreds of Dementors looking for a Kiss and I am obliged to let them have _him_."

Before he knew quite what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door.

"Move," Snape commanded dangerously, dragging Professor Lupin across the floor.

"I HAVE PROOF AND YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—"

"SILENCE!" Snape bellowed, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

"Professor, please—"

"_I have just saved your idiot neck a second time this year_," he spat out, "_You should be groveling if you expect me to listen!_"

Smothering his anger, Harry followed his gut instinct and knelt. He kept his eyes trained on the dusty, black boots. "_Please_, professor—"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER."

Within a split second, Harry pointed both wands upwards. "_Stupefy!"_

Snape's face had an astonished look upon it as the spells slammed him right into the four-poster bed, which then collapsed on top of him. Black's body fell to the ground with a thud.

Harry jumped to his feet and switched wands with Neville, who was gawping at him. "There's not much time. Moonrise might be happening now."

"Harry… You just attacked a teacher," Neville whispered querulously.

"Stunned him," Harry corrected. For some reason, he was beginning to feel very queasy. What if he was wrong? "_Finite Incantatem_."

Black stood up, stretching. "He nearly always comes to the wrong conclusion. He assumed that you wouldn't attack him." He picked up Snape's wand. "To your benefit, of course."

"If I _had_ attacked him, he wouldn't be in one piece," Harry said, when he saw Black reach for Lupin. "Don't! It's a full moon tonight. I don't know if he's gotten his Wolfsbane Potion."

Professor Lupin nodded and struggled in the bonds, and Black undid them.

"Thanks Harry, but I've taken enough Wolfsbane to tide me over until tomorrow morning so if I _do_ transform I'll have my wits about me. May I have my wand back?"

A little hesitant, Harry returned it to the DADA professor.

"The rat…" Black held out a hand to Neville. "Give him to me."

Neville threw the squealing rat at Black.

Catching the rat tightly by its scruff, Black barked out another laugh. "I've waited _twelve years_ for this, _Pettigrew! _While I rotted in Azkaban, I've thought of all the ways I would kill you, painfully, slowly, for betraying James and Lily! For leaving my godson in the home of magic-hating Muggles!"

The rat's high-pitched squealing grew even louder and more desperate. Black's eyes were wild and very wide.

A flash of blue-white light erupted from Lupin's wand. Black dropped the rat, and before Harry's disbelieving eyes the rat twisted in mid-air, Pettigrew's head shooting out; limbs were sprouting; and merely a moment later a wizard stood where the rat had been, cringing and wringing his hands.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose. His very small, watery eyes looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. His fingernails were pointed like Salazar Slytherin's.

"S-Sirius… R-Remus?" Even his voice was squeaky. His eyes darted towards the door. "My old friends…" He lunged for the door, but both Black and Lupin threw him back.

"You sold James and Lily Potter to Voldemort," Black said, shaking with rage. "Do you deny it?"

Pettigrew burst into tears. "Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… he promised—"

"DON'T LIE!" Black bellowed. "YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He—he promised to kill a wicked, evil man!" Pettigrew gasped, washing his hands. "Th-the Dark Lord was supposed to leave Lily alone!"

"The most evil wizard that has ever existed _never_ keeps his promises!" Black snarled.

"You don't understand! James was stealing her happiness away!" Pettigrew whinged like a mewling kitten. "He would have killed me!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY THEM!" Black roared.

With wide eyes and yellow buck teeth, Pettigrew spun around and set his gaze on Harry. "Harry… Your eyes, they're like your mother's—"

Harry shoved his wand into Pettigrew's face. "_You betrayed my parents!_"

"No," the man whimpered, "No, please believe me. Your father isn't who everyone thought, and now Sirius is going to kill me too… to silence the truth!"

"HOW DARE YOU?" Black's face was filled with a terrible fury. He grabbed Pettigrew, who squealed. "HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES!"

"_Langlock!_" Professor Lupin cast fiercely. "We will hear no more of your _lies_!"

The groaning murderer had fallen to his knees, groveling, and clutched the front of Harry's trousers.

Harry kicked at him. "Get off of me!"

The adult shuffled on the ground, crawling. He clutched his hands together as if in prayer in front of Lupin.

"You should have realized, Peter, that if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would," Professor Lupin said lowly, a deep bloodthirstiness on his face, "Goodbye, Peter."

The two men raised their wands likely to cast an Unforgivable Curse…

With a whimper, Neville covered his face.

"NO!" Harry shouted. Following that instinct that had yet to lead him down the wrong path, he ran between them and Pettigrew. "If you kill him, you'll both go to Azkaban."

Black and Lupin looked haggard.

"Harry," Black began, trying to sound pleasant though he growled like a dog, "this _vermin_ is the reason you have no parents. This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too without turning a hair."

"I know. I know that," Harry said. "But we'll take him to the castle to sort things out. Then you'll be a free man." Pettigrew gasped, crying tears of what looked to be relief. "I said we'd take you to the castle. After that, the dementors can have you." Harry grinned nastily rather enjoying the moans of despair from Pettigrew.

The two Marauders looked at one another and then as one they lowered their wands.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide," Black agreed, looking at Harry apprehensively.

"I reckon my dad wouldn't have wanted either of you to become killers," Harry said barely above a whisper.

"Very well," Professor Lupin said.

Harry moved out of the way, so they could tie Pettigrew up with the rope Snape had used on Lupin.

"If you transform, we will kill you," Black snarled. "You agree, Harry?"

Looking at the pitiful figure on the floor, Harry nodded so Pettigrew could see him. He would be happy to feed him to the Dementors.

"Right, Neville, let's head out," Professor Lupin said calmly.

"What about Professor Snape?" Neville asked in a small voice.

"There shouldn't be anything seriously wrong with him. Harry was a little overenthusiastic, nothing more. He'll wake up with a nasty headache and an aching ribcage. By the way, nice spellwork, Harry."

Harry laughed once at the compliment. After the humiliation he'd endured during his duel with the Death Eater, he was feeling rather good about catching Snape unawares.

* * *

They were certainly a strange group to see walking single-file. At the front was Lupin, Pettigrew, and Black, while Neville and Harry took up the back. Lupin, Neville, and Pettigrew had to turn sideways to squeeze through the entrance of the tunnel.

"Sorry about the bite; I would have preferred to grab the rat but I was worried I'd bite your fingers right off to get him," Black told Neville. "I reckon your ankle twinges a bit."

"Madam Pomfrey will heal it up," Neville said cheerfully, limping in that awkward crouch everyone had to do to get through the tunnel.

"You're a sweet chap, aren't you? Snivellus said you're a Longbottom, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Your parents were good people. Shame they're in St. Mungo's now," Black said. Harry winced at the callous way the adult said it. "Harry, I don't know if anyone ever told you that I'm your—"

"Godfather? I've known that since the start of summer, Black."

"Please call me Sirius," Black said stiffly, "Look, once my name's cleared, if you wanted a… a different home…"

An explosive joy filled Harry. "What—Live with you?"

"Harry's my brother! The adoption just occurred," Longbottom whinged. "You're going to steal him away and leave me all alone with Gran?"

"Er." This was the first time Harry had heard that it had been finalized. He would not like to live with Neville's Gran if he could help it. "If I live with Bla—Sirius, then I'd visit you, Neville."

Black's voice was full of awe, "You actually want that… you want to stay with me?"

"Of course, I do. Have you _met_ Augusta Longbottom? She's a terror."

"I have indeed. She doesn't have much in the way of humor."

"Harry…" Neville sounded like he was going to burst into tears. "Couldn't we stay as brothers?"

Harry's face crinkled with pity. He didn't like the thought of leaving Neville by himself. "Is there a way, Sirius?"

"Yes, it's a little complicated, but it can be done."

At last, they reached the end of the musty, damp passage and climbed out. Harry was surprised to not see Theodore hanging around the entrance to the tunnel at least. He wondered whether the greasy-haired bastard had ordered him back to the castle.

"One wrong move, Peter, that's all I need," Lupin said threateningly, wand still pointed at Pettigrew's back.

Looking across the grounds, Harry saw that the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Clouds were obscuring the full moon. Once he had a moment to think, Harry asked Black where the knot was to paralyze the Whomping Willow.

"Here," Black pointed at a particularly large one at the base of the violent tree near to the tunnel entrance, "A friendly Kneazle helped me with it when I needed a place to rest. He was quick-footed enough to miss getting swiped. Wormtail," Black gestured to Pettigrew, "He used to get it before."

Harry nodded. "Oh, may I bring Dobby to your place? He's a house-elf I freed. He'd be heartbroken if he couldn't live with me," Harry said.

"Of course. The more, the merrier."

Harry's mind was buzzing with euphoria. He was going to live with his godfather, Sirius Black! No more unpleasant company over the summer nor any wasted worries about Mrs. Longbottom's summertime educational regime…

Then a cloud shifted, and there were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their victorious party was bathed in moonlight.

Professor Lupin had stopped rigidly at the front. He turned and the moon reflected in eyes that were rapidly turning black. His face was extending, pushing out into a snout and everywhere he was sprouting fur.

Harry grabbed Neville, who stumbled in response.

"Keep your wand trained on Wormtail. Lupin needs the privacy of the Shrieking Shack." Black flicked his wand at Lupin, freezing him in place. He levitated the changing werewolf back towards the Whomping Willow.

There was a terrible snarling noise emitted as Lupin's head continued to lengthen and his body morphed, bones and tendons cracking in horrible ways. His shoulders were hunching and his hands were curling into clawed paws.

Seeing Harry's distraction, Pettigrew dove for the ground and came up with Lupin's abandoned wand.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Harry yelled, pointing at Pettigrew and the wand flew high into the air and out of sight. "Stay where you are!"

Neville made a noise. The balding, stooped man was transforming into the rat he'd always been. Harry tried to use several Stunning Spells on him, but he lost sight of Pettigrew in the tall grass. Harry kicked the nearest bush angrily.

Several howls and loud screaming and barking had Harry turning to look towards the Whomping Willow; it was far too late. The werewolf had taken flight into the forest, and a large black dog chased after him, snapping at his heels.

Harry frowned when he saw a ball of blue-light whiz past him straight for the castle which stood with inviting light spilling from its windows. He'd heard _screaming_?

"_Potter_!" Snape roughly grabbed his shoulder from behind and placed a wand against his throat, tingling the skin where it touched. Blood stained his hands. "You are to march straight to the headmaster's office!"

Being shoved towards the castle, Harry wondered whose blood it was. "Professor—"

"_Not another word!_"

Finding his voice, Neville stumbled next to them. "Please don't hurt him!"

In the distance, Professor Lupin let out a spine-tingling howl.

At once, Snape dropped the wand from Harry's throat stood defensively between them and the perceived threat of the werewolf. "Get back to the castle, now!"

There was pained canine yelp and then another one more desperate than the last. "Sirius," Harry murmured. Before Harry had a moment to think about what he was doing, he shoved Neville towards the castle. "RUN, NEVILLE!" And then Harry dove into the underbrush. Bolts of light shot by him as he scrambled through the underbrush.

"POTTER! COME BACK HERE!"

There wasn't anything in the rules that said he had to obey Snape's command. Crawling to the other side, Harry sprinted across the grass towards the Forbidden Forest. He came upon the werewolf and the dog. He didn't know how to subdue the werewolf, only how to kill him, and that was more than useless to Harry. Shouting, he tossed a rock at the creature. Having turned at the sound of Harry's yell, the creature was struck right in the jaw by the flying rock. It let out a furious roar, raising a paw to strike.

"PROTEGO!" Harry cried out, and the shield charm deflected the werewolf's attack. His fur singed, the werewolf backed off several yards, snarling and circling Harry. Once the shield charm had faded, Harry cried out with all his might, "STUPEFY!"

The Stunning Spell slammed into Professor Lupin and sent him sliding across the ground and down the hill. The werewolf got to his feet groggily, snorting with a soft growl. Harry waved his wand again, "STUPEFY!"

Struck in the face, Professor Lupin keeled back and tottered over into a boneless slump. Harry didn't dare approach the furry, humanoid body. Instead he kept his wand trained on the heavy-breathing werewolf as he ran towards Black. His godfather had gotten to his feet and was limping away in human form.

Taking a deep breath, Harry galloped towards him, wand tightly clenched in his fist. Soon he was on the edge of the Forbidden forest, running mightily as he could. Black was outpacing him, even though Harry didn't know how in his weakened state. The tall, thick trunks around Harry in the silvery moonlight seemed familiar. He stumbled down to a shore where a crystal-clear lake was. Black was lying on the gravel, curled on his side. "Sirius!"

Suddenly, Harry's breath became very cold, and Black came awake moaning, "_Nooo… please…_"

And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, were gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. The familiar cold penetrated his insides, obscuring his vision; they were encircling them. The water's edge began to freeze, every bit of heat sucked up from it. The water froze, chinking together, spreading all the way to the other side.

_Wait_, Harry's brain said, _We had a dream about this_.

Harry pointed his wand up thinking of his Slytherin friends, so far away from him now… safely tucked away in the castle without any idea that he was in mortal danger. "Happy memories," Harry told himself as his skin grew colder and colder, "Happy memories." He lifted his wand. "_Expecto Patronum!" _A feeble wisp came out. His lungs were too constricted; he felt like he was drowning. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" Harry yelled, trying to blot out the screams of his parents. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

It was too late. He should've cast it earlier when he still felt warm…. He was too alone… completely alone… And now Black was going to die too. "_Expecto… Expecto Patronum…" _Harry gasped out. The mist that had formed around them to prevent the dementors from touching them was swept aside by the gesturing of several slimy, dead hands. They were sucking at their happiness.

"NO!" Even though Harry could no longer see, he forced himself to stand, remembering the stag, remembering everything that was warm and good and pure and love and heart. "EXPECTO… PATRONUM!" A great white light burst out and a stag charged at the dementors as Harry had expected, but in a few moments it burst into fog.

A paralyzing terror filled him since the only things he _could_ see were the dementors. And one of them came forward, lowering its hood with its rotting hands. There were no eyes. The nose was rotted. The mouth had no lips, only a shapeless hole, sucking at his happiness with a deep evil rattle.

He _had_ to fight, but he could no longer feel his body, he was no longer aware of anything but the clammy hands that had attached itself to his neck and jaw, tilting his head back. His mother continued screaming in his ears… she was going to be the last thing he ever heard.

And then, a silvery light began to pierce through the fog… the dementors shrieked as if burned by the intensely warm glow. Harry felt himself fall forward. As he fell, he saw a bright blue orb hovering over Black's mouth. Harry hit the gravel as the blinding light illuminated everything around him. The cold was ebbing away… The air was warming… Harry looked up and saw a corporeal Patronus peering down at him. It pawed the ground next to him, kicking back its full rack of antlers.

Suddenly fog filled his eyes and he saw chubby fingers grasping a broomstick and a cat with a bottlebrush tail running in front of him.

_Warm, masculine laughter bowled over him. "Lily! Come see! Harry's a natural!"_

_Harry zoomed along on the toy broom as his mother stepped in, laughing at the sight. "Oh, Harry! Leave Fringle alone." Screaming with glee, he zoomed past her grasping arms and clutching hands._

_His father jumped in the way with a playful growl, swiping slowly at him, and Harry turned the broom away clumsily with a peal of joy and helpless giggling. His father grabbed him off the broom and lifted him into the air. Harry screamed happily, flapping his arms and hands out. James beamed up at him. "Good boy!"_

_Harry giggled again as he was dropped and lifted like he was flying._

_"I'll have to write Sirius," Lily said between her chuckles, "and tell him how much Harry loves his birthday present."_

The happy memory faded as the stag stepped away from him.

"No," Harry croaked, reaching for it. "Don't leave me. Please." Fighting to stay conscious, he watched it canter towards the opposite shore. He saw someone with his messy hair reach up and pat it.

The last of his strength disappeared, and he fell unconscious.


	20. Hermione's Secret

**_Author's Notes: _**_Time for some lulzy time-traveling! Sorry about that. I saw so many errors I had to take it down temporarily._

* * *

"I ran as many tests as I could to see what I missed…"

"And…?" The headmaster's voice drifted into the room.

"Nothing. There was absolutely nothing subpar with the batch I made him. Either he developed a tolerance to Woflsbane—very unlikely—or the fool ate something laced with sugar right before or after imbibing the potion," Snape murmured some distance away.

Harry's eyes popped open. He was in the infirmary.

"I am more disturbed that Sirius Black managed to Confund three witnesses."

"Again, Black had help: _Lupin._ They must have bewitched the children together to keep their stories straight. If I hadn't caught Granger after Potter's childish antics…"

"You did prevent a greater tragedy from developing. You should be proud of this accomplishment, Severus."

"Death would be easier for him," Snape said coldly. "Regardless, you still will not change your mind…" Both wizards stood in silence for several moments. "Is it so good to continue to indulge Potter's juvenile adventures given the end result?"

"You were once a child, not so long ago," Professor Dumbledore murmured. "Children should be allowed to make mistakes."

There was a scoffing noise. "Potter's continued presence will lead to greater tragedy if you don't place him in Augusta's mentorship _immediately_. Prolonging the inevitable—," Professor Snape's emboldened voice grew muffled when the infirmary doors were shut.

Harry felt very groggy, lying on his back. His limbs were like lead, but he didn't exactly want to move just yet. He could hear that their conversation continued, but couldn't pick out any words. Memories of the dementor swarm over the lake chilled him. He could still feel the touch of clammy, rotted hands—Harry shuddered forcing his thoughts to his current environment.

The bed felt like heaven after the hard gravel shoreline where he and Black had been attacked, but he couldn't stay prone. If he remained there, he would fixate on the memories and Harry wasn't interested in revisiting the latest attack by dementors. Forcing himself up, he shakily reached for his glasses. A bright memory with his mother and father floated forward. Harry had been saved by his father's Patronus, a stag just like his own except larger and corporeal. "I saw my dad," he mumbled in awe.

"Harry?" It was Hermione's voice. What was she doing here? "What is it?"

Even with his glasses on, he squinted at her. "My dad sent the dementors away. I saw him across the lake."

Hermione gave him a concerned look. "But your father's…"

"Supposed to be dead. I know. But I know what I saw." The thought filled Harry with hope. Maybe if the living arrangement didn't work out with Black then he could live with his father...?

"…Listen," Hermione said, "They've captured Black. Any moment they're going to have the dementors Kiss him."

"But Sirius is innocent," he was pushing himself to the edge of the bed now. He was dizzy by the motion.

"Madam Pomfrey said you had stay in bed and eat chocolate." Hermione provided the bittersweet confection.

Harry mechanically chewed, hardly tasting it. "I can't let them have Sirius Kissed."

She glanced behind her nervously and took a large breath. "Look, before Neville was treated and sent out, he told me everything. No one can verify either of your accounts because Peter Pettigrew wasn't caught."

Pushing himself to stand, the world tilted for a moment. Hermione touched his shoulder to help him remain upright. "They could look at our memories," he said hotly.

"Not in cases where a type of Memory Charm is suspected to have been used."

"We were never Confunded!" Harry yelled heatedly.

Many footsteps bustled nearer to them. "Miss Granger! He is to remain _lying down_," Madam Pomfrey said sharply. Harry obediently plopped onto the bed and lay down once more.

"What is the matter, Poppy?" Snape's voice wafted in.

"Nothing, you git!" Harry couldn't believe the Potions Master had gotten his way where Harry's godfather was concerned.

The greasy-haired bastard drawled, "If Potter is being too obstinate, I can drug him into a heavy sleep."

Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "You are not to meddle in the matters of my Healing Art, unless invited."

Harry's godfather was about to die, and the two nearest adults were bantering like nothing awful was about to happen. His hope of staying with Sirius Black was shattering into so many pieces. Harry couldn't very well live with his father if the adult had pretended to be dead all this time, could he? "Please. I need to speak to the headmaster."

"You can tell me." The Healer came forward, cupping his face and checking his glands. "Thank goodness your fever has dropped…"

"No. I need to talk to him. He can stop it, stop the Dementor's Kiss."

With a quiet sigh, Madam Pomfrey pulled away. "Albus?" She turned towards the other occupant in the room.

Movement out the corner of his eyes brought Professor Dumbledore into focus.

"Sir, Sirius Black is innocent. You've got the wrong man. Ron's rat, Scabbers, is an Animagus. It's Peter Pettigrew. I mean, twelve years is a long time for a common garden rat to live, isn't it? The rat was missing a digit on its right front paw, the same that would be a thumb on a person. Scabbers was made to turn back into a wizard: Peter Pettigrew."

"You see? Black's done a very good job on him," Snape said.

Harry swiveled his head. "I am NOT Confunded!"

The Potions Master curled his lip. "I beg to differ."

"You—!"

"Severus, you are distressing my patient," Madam Pomfrey rebuked. The greasy-haired bastard thinned his lips instead of speaking.

Harry looked at her. "I'm not distressed! _He's_—" She pressed a block of chocolate into his mouth.

Unable to speak further, Harry chewed vigorously on it.

"My apologies, Poppy, Severus," the headmaster said gravely, "but I must ask to speak to Hermione and Harry alone."

"Headmaster, he needs treatment and rest."

"This cannot wait, Poppy. Rest assured it will only take a few minutes of their time."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away, shutting the door to her office.

Snape, however, hadn't moved. Professor Dumbledore didn't say anything as he looked at the Potions Master curiously.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape's eyes were fixed on the headmaster's face. The Potions Master took a step forward. "Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed out, "You haven't forgotten that, headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill _me_?"

_Sirius had? _ Harry frowned.

"My memory is as good as it ever was," Dumbledore said simply. He had a very grave expression.

With a barely contained look of fury, Snape turned on his heel and marched through the double doors. He directed a furious look at Harry before his reddened sallow face disappeared behind the wooden doors he pulled shut.

Once they were alone, Hermione burst into explanation using Neville's testimonial, Harry adding in details when she faltered in her retelling.

Not a minute in, Professor Dumbledore held up a hand to stall their accounts. "It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time. There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word—and the word of thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been set to become the Potters' Secret-Keeper."

"Professor Lupin can—" Harry began as he sat up.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. I might add that a werewolf's support in the magical community will count for very little, and the fact that they are both old friends."

"But—"

"You must see that Professor Snape's version is far more convincing."

"He hates Sirius."

"Harry," the headmaster looked very sad. "Sirius Black has not acted like an innocent man. You recall the attack on the Fat Lady and his armed trespass into Gryffindor Tower...?"

"But you believe me—"

"And Neville—" Hermione added.

"And Neville, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. But without Peter Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius Black's execution. However, there is a way." The headmaster reached into a pouch hanging in the front of his robes and pulled a familiar cloak from it.

Harry gasped, eagerly taking it back. "My cloak! Where did you—"

Professor Dumbledore turned away from him abruptly and then walked towards the exit. "Mysterious thing, _time_…" He said slowly, "Powerful and when meddled with, _dangerous_." He paused with his back to them. "Sirius Black is in the topmost cell of the Dark Tower. He cannot escape without help."

The headmaster's message was like a riddle almost, one that seemed just outside Harry's grasp.

The old wizard turned around with a very determined look on his face. "You know the laws, Miss Granger. _You must not be seen_. If you do not return before the chimes to midnight have completed, the consequences will be too ghastly to discuss. If you succeed tonight, more than two innocent lives will be spared."

Harry frowned at that. The only person they needed to save was Sirius Black…

"Four turns should do it," the headmaster said with a jolly wink and a twist of his fingers. Then he opened the doors and left, closing them slowly behind him.

"Is this about that thing you _can't_ talk about?" Harry looked at Hermione. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she looked at Harry.

"Oh!" Professor Dumbledore stuck his head in between the doors. "By the way, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to begin." He retracted his head and shut the doors.

Hermione took out a very long, very fine gold chain from the neck of her robes.

"What's that?"

She leaned forward and put the chain about his shoulders so they were both under the chain. Still lying in bed, Harry reached up to the hourglass full of sand, but she slapped it away.

"Are we going back in time?" Harry whispered excitedly.

Without a word, Hermione turned the hourglass exactly four times, and then the hourglass began to spin wildly inside the ring it was suspended in. Around them, people moved around, Madam Pomfrey stepped through Hermione a couple of times in a blur of colors and shapes, treating numerous students. The sun seemed to rise in the wrong direction inside the dark ward and light and shadow angled through the windows. Harry had never seen sunlight move so fast, it was as if the world was moving around them as they stood still.

When the sun stopped at a summer slant, Hermione took the chain off his shoulders and tucked the hourglass beneath her robes.

"How much time is a turn?" A rejuvenated Harry pushed off the bed. He didn't feel dizzy at all.

"Where were we at seven-thirty? We were at Hagrid's having a tea party, weren't we?"

"Um, I wasn't—"

Hermione took off sprinting down the hall. "We can't be seen! Hurry!"

She was faster than she looked. Four turns _and_ they had to be back before midnight; so it was—_had been_ close to midnight then? Did that mean that each turn was an hour if it was currently seven-thirty? Harry had no idea. He caught up with her, and they both ducked behind a statue when some students were passing down the hall. They ran towards the covered pedestrian bridge, which spanned the valley leading to Hagrid's house.

They continued to run at a blistering pace until they reached the stone archway at the very end of the bridge. Harry stopped and looked past Hermione's shoulder. Farther down the hill by the giant irregular stone blocks, he saw Hermione and Neville, but… Hermione was standing right next to Harry. He blinked several times.

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" She screamed farther down the hill at Draco. Normally Harry would be concerned about whether Draco was bullying Hermione, but…

"That's you. And you're here…" Harry said breathlessly. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were smirking at the Hermione who was down-the-hill and not beside him. They had actually done it. They'd gone back in time!

"Hermione, he's not worth it," Neville said nervously from a distance.

"I feel like I need to intervene," Harry said to himself, compulsively stepping forward, but the Hermione-beside-him grabbed and pushed him against the wall. Surprised by her forwardness, he stared at her warm brown eyes as she held pinned him by the shoulder. "Hermione. I didn't know you felt that way."

"_Boys." _Snorting derisively, she pulled out the strange necklace. "This is a Time-Turner, Harry. Professor McGonagall gave it to me first term. This is how I've been taking every elective class this year. You asked how Sally-Anne and I could be in both Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, right? We received special permission to use this to take them concurrently."

Harry's head felt like it was about to explode. No wonder she'd been so busy if she was taking _all _of the electives. "But why four hours? Each turn is an hour, right?"

"Professor Dumbledore obviously wanted us to return to this moment." Hermione peeked around the corner of the stone archway. "Clearly, something happened that he wants us to change."

The other Hermione had her wand against Draco's throat.

"What'd he do?"

"He's told us that you're the new Dark Lord and if we don't willingly join your cause he will ruin our families' livelihood."

Harry groaned, head leaning against the cold stone wall. And if Harry confronted him, it was no guarantee that he would stop being a prat. He heard Draco shout and jerked his head up to see what was amiss. Draco was holding his face gingerly.

"Run!" Goyle cried out.

The Hermione-beside-him backed up, pushing him towards the ledge of the opening next to them. "Malfoy's coming." They hopped out of it, landing on the grass beside the stone foundation.

"Not a word about this to anyone, understood?" Draco barked out.

"Okay!" Crabbe said.

"Muggle-raised and Muggle-borns. _Filthy savages_, the lot of them," came the snarl as Draco passed by them. "I'll get that jumped-up Mudblood. Mark my words. She'll regret laying a hand on _me_."

"Prat," Harry muttered. He could hear the other Hermione say how it felt good and Neville respond that she'd been brilliant. "I'll talk to him—"

"I doubt that'll change his behavior," she whispered, peering past him.

"Then be careful."

"Don't worry about me. I can hold my own."

After the two Gryffindors down the hill decided to head to Hagrid's cabin, Harry spent a moment gazing at the way the clouds glowed and the branches of the Forbidden Forest alighted in the golden-orange sunlight as the shadows began to stretch around them.

"Now we sneak down there…" Hermione said. She raised her wand, squinting at him, and then tapped her wand against his forehead. The egg-like sensation Harry felt meant that she had just cast a Disillusionment Charm. She on the other hand stood up and whipped her wand about her like she was twirling a stick with a piece of ribbon on the end of it, and then she seemed to disappear.

"You've got to teach me that," Harry said.

"When we have a moment. Can't waste any time. We should wait by the edge of the forest by Hagrid's cabin."

They made their way down the hill and huddled behind giant pumpkins in the half-giant's garden. There were voices and laughter coming from the cabin.

With a frown, Hermione picked up an oblong river stone with an unusual spiral design on it.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I think I've seen this before..." She continued to stare at the stone.

"So, why can't we talk about time-traveling magic?"

Crouched like Harry, she leaned against the giant pumpkin. "Awful things have happened to wizards that have messed with time. It's why w_e can't be seen_." Hermione frowned again. "You aren't here yet…"

"I told you I couldn't come. I never went."

"Oh!" Hermione hissed and held her head. "Why didn't I think of that?!" Casting a quick Cancelling spell on him, Harry was suddenly quite visible again. She frowned at him for a moment and then pointed her wand at Harry's shirt beneath his chin and cast, "_Scourgify!_"

Harry was trying to see what she cleaned off, when she said, "Tell me, did anything unusual happen to make you and Nott come across the bridge?"

"Er. Someone grabbed me as I was turning from the stairwell after dinner, and then there was this bobbing light and I followed it—"

"Okay." Hermione gestured for him to stand. "Go knock on Hagrid's door. You'll surprise us."

Harry looked down at himself still befuddled. "But I thought—"

"Just, whatever you do, _don't try to snatch Peter Pettigrew_. We'll think you've gone mad. Promise me you won't."

His parents' murderer was in there? Right this moment?

"Harry, _promise_."

"Alright." Harry jumped to his feet and nearly ran towards Hagrid's cabin. Once he'd reach the door, he knocked, bouncing in place.

Hagrid opened it and stepped aside so Harry could come inside. "Yeh shouldn've come 'Arry!"

Neville and Hermione gasped in delight. "Harry!?"

He grinned impishly at them. The both of them looked too stunned to speak.

The half-giant shut the door and looked out the window.

"Why not?" Harry asked Hagrid. Harry unobtrusively looked around for any sign of the rat as he brushed his fingers over the tips of the hanging dried herbs and worn quilts.

"Snape is goin' ter have me 'ead," Hagrid said with a slightly weary tone. "Wan' some tea an' cakes?"

"Yes! Come have some tea!" Hermione said as Neville scooted his chair to the side to leave a spot for him.

"Yes, please." Harry joined the excited Gryffindors at the table, once Hagrid had brought a stool from an adjacent 'room' that was separated from the main room by a stitched curtain made of large seed bags. Hagrid added another teacup and saucer, making the tea just as Harry liked. Harry thanked him as soon as he had finished.

Hermione brought him to speed about the current wild theories of how Black was entering the school. She leaned in close. "Personally, I think he's an illegal Animagus. It's the only thing that makes _sense_. I've done a lot of research on Dementors and they have difficulty discerning the person they seek if they've transformed themselves into an animal. And, it's standard practice to place spells on an Animagus to prevent their transformation and to heavily ward their cell once they've been admitted to Azkaban."

"Nonsense," Hagrid said. "Sirius Black, an Animagus? Professor McGonagall said he was troddin' _awful_ at Transfigurations… Can't be an Animagus."

Neville sent a nervous glance at Harry. The Slytherin smiled in what he hoped was an understanding way, and Neville seemed to relax a little.

"But others have seen a large black dog running into the Forbidden Forest or towards the Whomping Willow. Trelawney told everyone it was a Grim, but that's a load of rubbish. The sightings started not long after school began, and no one's died yet if the superstition is to be believed."

"Could be a stray. We get 'em time to time when th' gates're opened fer students," Hagrid said.

"What do you think, Harry?" Hermione gave him a shrewd look.

"It makes sense… but where's the proof?"

She blinked and sat up straighter. "Well, I-I don't have any."

With a quiet 'hm', Harry took a long sip of his tea. "Get some and then the teachers will believe you. Right, Hagrid?"

"Righ'—No. No, yeh aren't ter try an' catch Black on yer own." The half-giant gave the Gryffindors a stern look.

Both of them grew flustered. "We won't," Hermione promised. "We'll fetch a teacher if we see him."

"Good," Hagrid said gruffly. "Don' need any more accidents this year."

"Oh," Neville merrily began as Harry gnawed on a rock cake, "You're supposed to get post tomorrow morning."

"About what?" Harry said around the hard teacake.

"About our traveling arrangements after term's over. You know, since we're brothers now."

Harry very nearly choked on the gritty crumbs. So, that's why Neville had expected him to know about the adoption in the passageway beneath the Whomping Willow. When Neville looked at him expectantly, Harry wracked his brain for a passably normal response. "We're, erm, brothers?"

Neville nodded with a nervous expression. "Gran's won custody of you. It'll take a couple more days before she gets the full rights of Guardianship—"

"Brothers? You never told me anything," Hermione said looking between them. Harry was a bit thrown off since he was receiving details about information he wouldn't know until the future…

"I forgot." Neville hung his head, blushing. "Sorry. It was supposed to be a secret, so other families didn't try to stop the adoption."

"My congrats ter yeh, Neville an' 'Arry," Hagrid said with a cheerful, booming voice. "Would've loved me ter have a brother."

"How's Buckbeak?" At any moment the rat was going to be revealed, and then Harry was going to catch him and prove to them all that Scabbers had been an Animagus all along... The wait was killing him.

Hagrid waved his meaty hand around. "Good, good. Doesn't want ter stay in the shelter I made fer 'im. Always find 'im wanderin' 'round th' edge of th' forest." Hagrid seemed to remember something at that. "Oh… Have a little surprise for yeh, Hermione." He opened a cookie jar and grabbed something that squealed unhappily.

"Scabbers!" Neville cried. "Ron thought he was dead!"

Remembering Hermione's warning about grabbing the rat in front of them, Harry glanced at her. "Again?"

She gave him an exasperated look and crossed her arms. "Neville, you take him. Ron and I are not on speaking terms."

"Okay, 'Mione." Neville grabbed the wriggling rat and shoved him in his pocket. Harry itched to Stun the rat and take him now. "Where'd you find him, Hagrid?"

"Saved 'im from Buckbeak. Good ole Buckbeak was about ter make a meal of 'im, he was. Distracted him with a treat."

Why, Hagrid? Harry inwardly bemoaned. Nature could have taken its course. And then— And then Black would have never had a chance to reveal the veracity of his claims to Harry in a way that made his version undeniably true.

Harry _couldn't _take Pettigrew now, and yet the thought of having to leave the Animagus in Neville's pocket made Harry sick.

A jar broke behind them, startling them all.

"Blimey," Hagrid said, "What was that?"

When Hermione picked up a peculiar-looking stone with a spiral design on it, Harry turned towards the window knowing that the Hermione-behind-the-pumpkin had thrown it for a purpose. Harry caught movement up the sloped land and refocused his attention to see two professors making their way out of the covered walkway abutting the castle. In front was the headmaster, whose silver-grey beard gleamed red in the setting sun, and next to him in billowing black robes was Severus Snape with a very sour expression. Harry ducked. "It's Professor Dumbledore and Snape," he hissed at the other two.

"Oh, crikey," Hagrid walked forward, looking out the window. "If they catch yeh 'ere, 'Arry…" He turned and looked at the Gryffindors. "It's nearly dark. None of yeh should be here. Yeh better go before they catch yeh."

Unable to cast the Disillusionment Charm and knowing that Hermione didn't have time to cast it on the three of them convincingly, Harry slipped on his magic cloak to the gasps of the others. "It's an Invisibility Cloak. Get under this. Squeeze together; we should all fit." He lifted it in what he hoped was an inviting manner.

Obediently, Hermione and Neville crouched beside Harry, and he dropped the veil-like material over them.

"This way," came Hagrid's gruff voice. Grabbing the broken jar, Hagrid opened the back side door for them and tossed out the dirtied seed that had been in the jar. The half-giant made a movement as if he'd just caught sight of the professors and waved. He shut the door behind the trio, and they could hear Hagrid trudge to the front door. Meanwhile, Harry silently urged the two beside him to stay crouched so none of their shoes would show as they creeped around the pumpkin patch. Harry had truly missed using his magic cloak. It felt surprisingly good to share it with others.

A moment later they heard a door creak open. "Professors Dumbledore and Snape. Come in!"

The professors stepped inside Hagrid's hut, and the door shut. The three students moved all the way to the other side of the pumpkins. Harry stopped them before they tried to go up the steps set into the steepest part of the hill. "Snape's expecting us to bolt; that's why he's looking out the window," he whispered. Neville looked as white as sour milk, while Hermione took the information with a nod.

"What brings yeh down from th' castle?" Hagrid asked.

"You are not harboring any students past curfew, are you, Hagrid? Professor Snape believes one of his students snuck out of the castle."

"Oh, blimey. Not 'Arry again iz'it?"

"I'm afraid so," Snape said with a nasally serious tone, turning towards Hagrid. He paused. "You have the table set for four teacups. I hope we were not… interrupting your social hour…"

Wanting to derail Snape, Harry picked up a stone and chunked it at the window. It hit Snape on the back of the head, who immediately peered furiously out of the window. Neville and Hermione both gasped in horror at what Harry had done, but neither of them dared to utter another sound.

"What's the matter, Severus?"

"A rock struck me, _just now_, headmaster," the Potions Master growled, stalking towards Hagrid's back door. "I believe Potter is playing his usual arrogant tricks."

"HEY!" A voice yelled from farther down the hillside. Harry frowned. That sounded like Hermione—

Hagrid's door slammed open. Snape jumped to the ground, wand drawn.

"Severus, aren't you overreacting…?" Professor Dumbledore asked lightly.

"If you expect me to stand here and let a few brats make a fool of me, you are _sadly_ mistaken!" Snape said with a snarl as he disappeared into the undergrowth.

"Oh, dear… It's been years since Severus has been so lively," the headmaster mused gazing out the window, not in the direction Snape had gone, but straight at the three of them. The Gryffindors on either side of Harry shivered.

"Let's move," Harry hissed. Hermione had been gazing distantly in the direction of the yell with a mildly curious expression on her face.

"Yeah, must be tough havin' ter keep after 'Arry," Hagrid's voice said loudly behind them.

The trio started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there was still a ruby-red glow. Just as they neared the archway to the castle, Neville shushed his pocket, and Harry saw that the lump was twisting and flailing madly. Pettigrew was making quite a commotion. "Hush up I say, Scabbers!"

Neville let out a piercing cry, tumbling out from under the magic cloak. Hermione took off after him. "Wait, Neville!" Hermione yelled. "NEVILLE!"

Harry stared, blinking furiously after them. And then he had a disturbing feeling of déjà vu as he saw himself and Theodore jump down from the covered bridge to run after them. Harry's heart was pounding in his chest as he heard himself and others shout various spells at the black blur streaking across the dimly lit slope.

What should he do? As he wracked his brain as to where to interfere, Hermione's voice whispered, "Harry? Are you there?"

He whirled around and could see her silvery outline in the moonlight if he sort of tilted his head and squinted. "Yes."

"Go down the hill from Hagrid's cabin where you think the yell came from. Buckbeak's foraging. Lead him to the edge of the lake and wait there."

Harry was puzzled, but agreed to do so. "Hermione, whatever you're doing, be careful."

"I will. Trust me. If you do what I say, I'll make sure Black's pardoned." He could hear her footsteps as she breezed by him.

The sky was fading into deep twilight as the breeze lazily stirred his hair. In the distance he saw a shadow running towards him.

Looking absolutely frantic, the Hermione-from-the-past was running full speed probably to get Lupin's help.

A heavier breeze and footsteps clomped by silently, causing the Bewitched watch to flare with cold momentarily. Harry frowned, seeing an adult's shoe print appear on a patch of half-dried mud. No, that was Lupin… Then who—

"Granger!" Snape roared behind Harry. The Slytherin spun around to watch the scene.

Past-Hermione flinched. "Sir, a black dog grabbed Neville by the ankle and—"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for being outside after curfew has been enforced. Another ten for being accomplice to Potter's pranks." Hermione gaped at him. "I have a crate of fresh newt's needing to be de-eyed."

"But—"

"_Do not try my patience, Granger_. You—" The Death Eater fell silent when he had apparently taken a good look into her eyes. "The headmaster must be informed at once. He should still be gossiping with the Gamekeeper in his cabin. If not, fetch Professor McGonagall. Go. Now." Snape's black robes flowed out behind him as he loped towards the Whomping Willow. She ran down the slope.

Remembering Hermione's commands, a jolt of adrenaline flushed through Harry's body. He traveled down the slope, passing her since he was much more sure-footed on the uneven terrain. He passed Hagrid's cabin where the sound of flute was playing, pausing before he went into the dense foliage below. Buckbeak wouldn't follow him without incentive, so he quickly grabbed about six of the dead polecats hanging on the fence next to him before he went into the dense foliage below.

It wasn't long at all before the underbrush moved in a menacing way before him. There was a trumpety bellow, and Harry stopped where he was, removing his magic cloak.

"Hello, Buckbeak," he said to the stormy grey creature.

The hippogriff turned a bright orange eye on him. Unafraid despite the scar he bore on his back, Harry bowed low.

The beast bowed back and then approached him, butting his large eagle beak against Harry's arm.

"Good boy," Harry whispered, patting him on his head. "I need you to follow me."

Buckbeak snapped his beak onto one of the polecats hanging off of Harry and chowed it down eagerly.

Holding out another polecat, Harry walked forward and looked back expectantly. With a stroke of luck, the hippogriff shuffled towards him, croaking. Elated, Harry continued his trek. He threw the polecat towards Buckbeak when he saw the glistening of the lake. At the water's edge, Harry sat down. "Lay down and you'll get another one," Harry said, holding up the polecat.

The eagle head twisted and turned, squawking testily, before the four legs folded beneath the beast. Harry tossed another to him. "Hagrid's spoiled you rotten, hasn't he?"

A sudden idea took hold of Harry. Wormtail had escaped justice by diving into the underbrush as a rat… If the only proof needed was that Wormtail hadn't been murdered…

"Stay," Harry said, offering the beast another dead polecat. Buckbeak stayed put, scratching the ground with his beak.

Night was quickly falling now. Harry didn't dare light his wand. He neared the opposite side of the brush, away from where his Stunning Spells would fly out in the future, just out of reach of the Whomping Willow, and slipped his magic cloak on.

Soon, darkness fell and moonlight streamed through trees whenever the clouds passed out of the way of the full moon. Harry sat there and thought about a lot of things. Mainly, what he would do once Black was granted amnesty. It was a wonderful thought. Having a home of his own without worrying that Black would one day hand him over to Voldemort or keep him trapped inside a castle surrounded by a veritable moat of flora and fauna. Maybe his dad could visit...?

Finally, Harry saw the faint outlines of the party filter out of the passageway… and he waited on bated breath for the moment when the moonlight shone down on everyone and then…

Shouting, spellwork, chaos… Harry gripped his wand tightly ready to pounce the first moment he saw or heard the rat—then, Buckbeak scared him right out of his skin by snapping something by its tail with his beak. Harry grabbed the screaming rat and thrust another dead polecat towards Buckbeak, who happily accepted the trade.

The noise was covered by his past-self's scream to run and Snape's yelled order.

"_Stupefy Duo!" _Harry hissed, and the squealing rat fell silent in his palm.

He shoved Wormtail into his pocket and took off his magic cloak so it wouldn't be damaged by the branches in his hurry to return to the lake's edge. He hoped that he wouldn't miss the spectacular save by his dad…


	21. The Plight of Werewolves

**_Author's Notes: _**_This chapter is longer than usual; hence, the late update because certain scenes showed up last minute... Also, I didn't feel it was necessary to break it up into two separate chapters. If you liked this arc, check out the next one, **Harry and the Three Knights**!_

_Hope you've enjoyed your reading adventure so far. __All reviews, PMs, favorites, and follows have been appreciated. _

* * *

A loud echoing yelp and furious snarl in the distance sent a spike of adrenaline through Harry's veins. He didn't have much time.

Panting, Harry was now standing at the edge of the lake as Buckbeak picked at the last polecat hanging from the cord against Harry's back.

"Lay down."

The hippogriff obeyed, so Harry tossed it to him. The carcass was snapped right in two.

It wouldn't be much longer until Black and Harry's past self were on the other side of the shore and Harry would feel the bone-deep cold pierce through everything.

And then it happened. Watching his other self's feeble attempts at a Patronus, Harry couldn't wait to see his dad perform—his terrified scream cut through his thoughts. The dementor's disgusting hands were cupping his face as if it meant to Kiss him.

In that moment, the reason why Hermione ordered him to wait by the lake suddenly became very clear. Jumping to his feet, he banished the cold and filled himself with warmth and happiness using a powerful, happy memory of his parents to share; it helped to know that he'd already done this before. "EXPECTO… PATRONUM!"

Great ripples of white light burst forth, battering the innumerable dementors away, and then a stag appeared. A blinding-white stag that Harry could touch. Its fur was soft and warm beneath his cold fingers, even though its hooves left no mark on the ground. And he could hear them. He could hear his parents laughing as they played with their toddler son, ripping out screams of joy from him. "Go to him. He needs you."

The stag pranced joyfully across the shore, greeting his past self with a merry snort.

Harry smiled, recalling the very happy, carefree memory he received at this moment. Once the memory was transmitted, the stag returned to him.

The dementors had been completely driven back. Harry cancelled the spell. In the distance, he could see the black silhouette of billowing robes in the silver moonlight. Harry darted behind the tree roots and donned his Invisibility Cloak. He peeked around the tree, while behind him Buckbeak foraged for… worms, by the squelching sounds of it. Harry placed a hand over the pocket that held the Stunned rat to reassure himself that he had the piece of evidence that would ensure that Black would not remain a fugitive.

By the lake with a mirror surface, Snape wasted no time as he summoned ropes to tie Black up, and then knelt by Harry's unconscious form to place fingers at his throat. The bastard then conjured a stretcher, flicking his wand so that Harry's unconscious body would lie upon it. With a snap of his fingers, the ropes jumped to his hands and Black was made to follow like a jerky puppet, the stretcher trailing behind.

Harry watched as the figures disappeared behind the trees. Now, he had to wait for Hermione… He assumed she would show shortly. He pulled the rat out by its tail, whispered, "Petrificus Totalus," and placed the stiff-as-a-board rodent back into his pocket. The last thing he wanted was a chance for Pettigrew to escape.

There was the sound of water being disturbed, and he watched as something nearly invisible continued to dip into the water, disturbing the surface with large ripples and splashes. The outline of a person could barely be made out. "Hermione…?"

"Yes…?" came a very strained tone.

He removed and pocketed his cloak, stepping hesitantly towards her. "Are you alright?"

There was a chilling silence. Then she said, "Good work with the Patronus Charm."

"I knew I could do it, since it'd already happened," he said. "Did you figure out what Professor Dumbledore meant about saving someone else?"

Hermione hiccupped. "Yes."

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, stepping towards her camouflaged form, but she had moved out of his grasp.

"I'm-I'm alright. Buckbeak will provide a means of escape for your godfather within the next forty-five minutes." Her voice had very little inflection and was subdued, nearly distant.

"An aerial assault? That's brilliant, Hermione." Harry grew even more worried when she didn't respond.

Buckbeak was lying on the ground staring towards them.

"Let's go then. We can't waste any more time, can we?"

"No, we can't," she said.

Once Harry reminded her to bow to the hippogriff—which was interesting since she was still Disillusioned and yet Buckbeak bowed back—the two Hogwarts students had a rather easy time crawling onto Buckbeak's back.

"C'mon, Buckbeak. Go!" Sitting behind a camouflaged Hermione, Harry dug his heels in, and the hippogriff reared back with a loud cry.

"Oh, I don't like this!" Hermione yelled as Buckbeak gathered speed with each lop-sided step.

"Try not to pull any of his feathers out," he said close to her ear.

As soon as they'd left the sanctity of the forest, Buckbeak spread his wings and forced them downward, leaping into the air. They lifted into the sky. Leaning against Hermione, Harry gripped the hippogriff's flanks tightly with his knees, while the great wings rose and fell powerfully beneath the two students.

Buckbeak flew high into the sky and headed straight for the castle's turrets; the outline of Hermione revealed that she was clinging to the creature's neck.

"We're going to have to steer him, Hermione. Lean with me!" He leaned to the right and tilted forward.

Amazingly, it worked, and they soon directed the hippogriff to land on the rooftop of Dark Tower by tilting heavily forward.

"Easy, boy," Harry said, once Buckbeak came to a stop.

"I'll get Black." Harry felt Hermione slip off the hippogriff's back.

"Bombarda!" A bolt of light shot from the wand which at first glance appeared to be floating, and the lock and wall cratered open, blasting debris towards the caster. "Come on!"

Harry's godfather limped out and saw that Harry was seated on the beautifully dangerous creature and petting the creature's crest feathers. "Is that…"

"A hippogriff," Harry said proudly. "His name is Buckbeak."

"I've seen him in the woods," Black said hoarsely. "Didn't he attack you?"

Laughing, Harry grinned impishly. "Oh, you saw that?"

"I wasn't happy that it was for a Malfoy—"

"We don't have time. Bow deeply. If he doesn't bow back, then he won't let you ride. Make it count." Hermione's voice was regaining its usual primness. Again, Harry wondered whose life she had saved that night and from what…

Black enacted a very elegant bow as if he'd been born to it, and Buckbeak accepted him readily. Harry checked on Wormtail, who was still where he put him, while Black helped Hermione onto the hippogriff. She swung up a leg behind Harry and then Black hopped on behind her.

"Hyah!" Harry said, digging his heels in and leaning forward.

Buckbeak galloped across the stone rooftop, wings spread out and jumped right off the edge. Soon the wind caught them and the great wings sent them soaring higher and higher. Harry laughed happily as they glided around the castle. Hermione's soft curves were pressed against Harry's back, her arms like a vice around his middle.

"You should get off at the courtyard!" Black suggested over the gusty wind buffering them.

Harry guided the others to lean to make Buckbeak circle around towards their destination. The landing nearly unseated him, but Hermione kept him in place with her tight arms hugging him. Once the beast had stopped, he and Hermione quickly slipped off, hopping to the stone.

"Harry," Black said with a contrite expression, "I'm sorry about your friend… If I had known—" The tower clock began to chime loudly, and they swiveled their heads towards the massive clock of Hogwarts.

"We've fifteen minutes to get to the infirmary," came Hermione's harried hiss.

"My friend?" Harry said after he nodded in understanding at the Gryffindor.

The thin wizard winced. "I couldn't see, but he smelled like he'd been around you plenty…"

Harry blinked thoughtfully. Neville had been with him in the shack—Oh. "What'd he look like?"

"I don't know. Dogs don't have the best night vision. It's the nose, that—"

"It's been very nice to meet you, Mr. Black. But Harry and I need to go." His bushy-haired friend was gesturing towards the entranceway into Hogwarts.

"I'll be forever grateful for this… to the both of you. You've saved my life," Black shifted himself farther up the hippogriff's flank. The creature huffed and squawked at his movement. The painfully thin wizard gazed down at the Slytherin. "I expect you get tired of hearing this… but you look so like your father."

Harry smiled up at him.

"Except your eyes—"

"I know," Harry said. "You'd better go. The dementors will be here any moment."

Black's expression twisted with sadness, self-pity, and anger. "It's cruel that I spent so much time with James and Lily, and you so little. But know this: The ones that love us never really leave us."

"Sirius—"

"You can always find them in here," the escapee said, touching a hand to his chest in an unhurried manner. "I wanted to say—"

"GO!" Harry and Hermione shouted together. Harry was laughing lightly at his godfather's romantic sensibilities.

Looking a bit put upon, Black wheeled Buckbeak around. "We'll see each other again! I promise, Harry!" He squeezed the hippogriff's sides with his heels. The downdraft from the wings nearly knocked the two students to the ground. The hippogriff took off running, and then rider and creature lifted into the sky… and became smaller and smaller.

"Harry, come on."

Yanking out the nearly weightless material, he threw the Invisibility Cloak over the both of them. "Use the Time-Turner and go back an hour and we can wait in the infirmary—"

Her face blanched. "No."

It had seemed like a sensible request, but maybe it was another restriction on the time-traveling device that Harry hadn't known.

So, they ran through the nearest entrance, up the stairs, and down the corridor towards the library which was closest to the infirmary. As they neared the library, they heard voices.

"The Kiss will be performed immediately?" said the greasy-haired bastard.

"As soon as Flitwick returns with the dementors," Professor McGonagall said sourly.

Harry clenched his teeth as they slipped past without either professor being any wiser. The infirmary was just a little bit farther when the tower clock began to chime. Harry and Hermione weren't even trying to keep themselves covered now as they sprinted.

The infirmary door opened and Dumbledore stood facing it, talking to their other selves in the room. "By the way, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to begin."

Harry quickly stowed his cloak into the inner pocket of his robes, while Hermione hurried to the headmaster just as he closed the doors. "We did it." She said tearfully. "We did it."

"Did what? Step inside."

"Professor... For you." Hermione passed something silver into the headmaster's hands.

A twinkle appeared in the adult's eyes, and he smiled mysteriously. He closed his hand over the object she'd given him. "Thank you, Miss Granger."

Deciding this was the best time to provide the evidence, Harry held the unconscious rat up by his worm-like tail. Harry's eyes were drawn to its front paws, suddenly afraid that he'd gotten the wrong rat. It was missing a digit on its right paw. "Also for you, professor."

The headmaster holding what Hermione had given him also took the Petrified rat, staring at it with an amused expression. The old wizard's smile grew as he turned to the Slytherin. "Thank you, Harry."

"How did you—" Hermione blustered.

The last chime had rung in the distance. Harry looped his arm through hers and pulled her through the door. "In, chat later."

She went into the room without argument. The lock glowed with magic, and then Harry and Hermione turned to each other. Harry was surprised when she didn't grin at him.

"That was amazing fun," Harry said as they walked across the room towards his bed. There was a set of blinds set up in the far corner of the room, which Harry hadn't noticed before.

"Let's not do that again," Hermione said. She looked rather ill as she stared at the blinds. As if catching herself, she looked away guiltily.

"What was that you gave the headmaster?"

"I said I'd help free your godfather from unjust punishment, hadn't I? I used the Dictim Pin to record everything inside the Shrieking Shack," she murmured. "Not that any of it mattered since you went and fetched Pettigrew yourself." Hermione's jaw tightened. "You could've told me what you planned to do so—" She sniffed loudly and shook her head, roughly rubbing at her eyes. "It's too late. What's done is done. Get back in bed before Madam Pomfrey catches you on your feet."

A little bewildered at Hermione's reaction, Harry lay back onto the infirmary bed. "Thank you, Hermione. For your help."

"I screwed everything up," she replied testily, reaching for his hand and squeezing. Her eyes had taken on that wet quality again.

Harry's smile faltered. He remembered the screaming beneath the Whomping Willow, the blood on Snape's pale hands, and Black's attempt to apologize… "More importantly, what's wrong with Theodore?"

Hermione's laughter was edged with deep unhappiness. It caught in her throat several times, sounding like aborted sobs. Harry squeezed her hand, and the unnerving not-laughter quieted.

Not a moment later, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office. "How are you, dears? The headmaster didn't trouble you much, did he?"

"We're fine, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, pulling her hand from Harry's.

Harry found that he missed the warmth of her soft hand. The Healer then offered a great amount of chocolate, which Harry ate without complaint, though he much preferred treacle pudding. Hermione was asking after Theodore when they heard a roar of fury from somewhere inside the castle.

Madam Pomfrey looked away with a frown. "What was that?" Angry voices came closer and closer.

Beyond the infirmary door, Flitwick was saying, "He could have picked the lock and climbed down! Perhaps you should have left a guard—"

"HE DID NOT ESCAPE ON HIS OWN!" Snape roared down the corridor.

"How else do you explain—"

"POTTER DID THIS! HE HAS A HOUSE-ELF!"

BAM. The doors of the infirmary burst open. In entered Professor Flitwick and Snape. The headmaster, looking very calm, arrived not a moment later.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey cried out.

"Excuse me, Poppy," Snape said with his bared yellow teeth and turned to Harry.

Harry managed a calm look as he imagined his cupboard and vividly imagined how flying his Firebolt might feel. Shifting slightly to the right, Hermione unobtrusively slipped her hand into his again, giving it a squeeze.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER! YOU HELPED BLACK ESCAPE!" he bellowed.

"This door was locked," Professor Dumbledore said evenly. "Mr. Potter could not have done anything without either myself or Poppy knowing."

Snape turned sharply. "WITH. HIS. HOUSE-ELF!" The adult howled, spittle flinging from his mouth.

"Calm down or I will cast you out on your ear, Professor Snape," Madam Pomfrey declared. "You are well aware that I have more than one patient."

"You don't know, Potter!" He hissed more quietly. His fury reddened the cheeks of his face.

"That will do, Severus," the headmaster said in his usual quiet manner, and the Potions Master fell silent instantly, though his eyes were hot coals of fury. "Harry, might you ease Professor Snape's mind? I'm sure the house-elf would listen if you called."

"Dobby!" Harry said aloud.

The small house-elf arrived with a pop, startling Hermione whose hand nearly jerked from Harry's. "What is Master Harry wanting from Dobby?"

"Did you have anything to do with Sirius Black's escape?"

"From Azkaban? Oh, no, no. Dobby has not, sir."

"No, from the topmost cell of Hogwarts Castle, you nitwit!" Snape snapped.

The house-elf shrank away. "Dobby knows nothing about that, sir."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You cleaned the dining room at Spinner's End just because I couldn't stand it any longer. Are you sure you didn't help my godfather escape?"

Dobby blinked his large green eyes and shook his floppy ears at Harry. "Dobby had nothing to do with that, no. Master Harry hates his godfather… and Dobby has not been back to Hogwarts since last year…"

"Thank you, Dobby. You may go," the headmaster said with a gentleness that masked it as the order it was.

Dobby looked to Harry, and he nodded. With a snap and a crack, the house-elf had gone.

"I know Potter did it." An unconvinced Snape glared at him.

"Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since the headmaster left, and Poppy would have noticed had either of them had left," Flitwick said reasonably.

"Of course I would have!" Madam Pomfrey said, bristling. "And I certainly would have heard if a house-elf had Apparated into here!"

"There, Severus," Professor Dumbledore said kindly, "Unless you are suggesting that Harry is able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling Madam Pomfrey's patients further."

Snape stood there seething, looking as though he might refute that. His black eyes roved over Harry as his jaw worked. Harry continued his spirited imaginings of riding his Firebolt over the Longbottom grounds.

Without another word, Snape whirled on a foot, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the infirmary.

"He looked as if he might argue that such a thing was possible," Professor Flitwick mused.

"He's just suffered rather severe disappointment. Of course, he'd want someone to blame," the headmaster murmured in a paternal manner. Harry had to swallow his laughter to not ruin the old wizard's cover. He had never expected an adult as upstanding as Professor Dumbledore to insinuate half-truths on Harry's behalf. His respect for the old man exponentially increased.

The headmaster's eyes twinkled behind his glasses after a glance at Harry. "Poppy, if Miss Granger has been released, I will escort her back to Gryffindor Tower since it is past curfew."

The Healer nodded without any last minute check-ups on Hermione. This told Harry that she could have left hours ago, but had decided to stay by his bedside instead. "She's free to go."

"Good night, Harry." Hermione's brown eyes still held that guilt in them that hadn't been there when they first traveled to the past together.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry said as her sweaty fingers left his. The headmaster and the Charms professor also bid them goodnight. Harry watched them go, feeling very drained. His eyelids were weighing down heavily, but his mind was too active to sleep…

Once the doors had closed and Poppy returned to her office, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

He pushed the covers off and slipped off the bed. He came to a stop by the blinds as his watch went cold.

Walking around them into the dark corner, Harry felt something tingle over his skin though he saw no cobwebs he might've passed through. There in a bed was a figure heavily bandaged about the chest and neck.

"Ah, Harry," Theodore whispered weakly. The silver bangles were gone, and his eyes reflected oddly in the darkness.

Harry stepped quickly to his side, staring down at his best mate. He closed his eyes for a moment. He had abstractly realized what had caused Theodore's injury and why Hermione had been acting so strangely, but now to see his friend so terribly injured… Swallowing, Harry opened his eyes again. "Why aren't you in St. Mungo's?"

"To avoid registration," Theodore said through a strained breath. "Da made the Healer treat me here. That way I could still attend."

"Why… did you allow yourself to get bitten?"

"Allow it?" Theodore's pale, sweaty face broke into a grin. "Only Da and you would assume that. As Muggles say, I had a cool upgrade, though I don't really fancy the monthly change."

'Cool upgrade'? That settled it; Theodore was insane. "What happened?"

"Had to save the charming Granger from being mauled. Her parents wouldn't've been able to—" Theodore winced. "To magic her a safe place if she reacted badly to Wolfsbane."

Harry sat heavily in the chair beside him. She wouldn't have been there at all if she hadn't decided to make an audio recording of the conversation on Harry's behalf. "A Knockback Jinx and Shield Charm would've been much more effective than jumping in front of her."

"I'm quick at casting, but not that quick. Before I knew it, a werewolf was bearing down on us. Didn't leave me many options."

Dropping his face into his hands, Harry said, "This is my fault."

"Oh, don't you start on that." Theodore shifted and raised a hand slightly from the bed by hinging his wrist. "Give me your hand."

Harry dropped his hand onto the thin, grasping fingers.

"See? No wince, no hesitation," Theodore said, squeezing it feebly. "That's why you're a good friend, Harry."

"But you're hurt because of me."

His friend rocked his head slightly in a manner that indicated that he disagreed completely but that the movement hurt to perform. He closed his eyes for a moment as if dizzy. Theodore's hand was much warmer than Harry's. "I'll heal up before you know it without the asthma or allergies or chronic illness. Perks of being… you know."

Harry blinked at him. "You never seemed sick."

"Potions. Expensive ones. It's why Da takes any job no matter the distance." Theodore opened his eyes and smiled, taking a pained breath. "Now he won't have to."

"But isn't Wolfsbane Potion expensive, too?"

Harry's hand was squeezed again and released when Theodore relaxed his wrist. "It's a bargain compared to what I've needed."

In the chilly infirmary, Harry clutched his knees and stared down at the dark grey stone floor. "Which is why your dad thought you got bit on purpose?"

"Still thinks that. And maybe…" Theodore trailed off for a moment. "And maybe he's right. My condition was worsening."

"How do you mean worse? You don't mean that-that you were about to die or anything, do you?"

Another tired smile overcame Theodore's sickly features. He shifted on the bed. "Over Easter, I was given an official prognosis for my affliction: MVS Misalignment. I was born with a faulty channeling mechanism. It means I'm in danger of killing myself every time I use magic." Theodore looked as if it was not big news.

Harry didn't know what to say. There were thoughts tearing through his mind, but nothing that seemed right to share at the moment. It explained why Theodore didn't seem to make much effort to perform magic other than in Potions or DADA class.

"Da knew before the St. Mungo's Healers did. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made me plan out my funeral and make an Advance Directive when I turned nine."

"Merlin." What do you say to that?

"And since I know you won't ask, it started when my magic first manifested." Theodore breathed out heavily through his nose, breath hitching from the pain no doubt. "It's taken this long… for the Healers to rule out everything else… It's so rare to have one's magic… leak out in unpredictable… and detrimental ways."

Numbness was Harry's predominant feeling now. "Has anyone with your condition gotten Lycanthropy? Will it cure you?"

Theodore's eyes flicked up to the ceiling. "No… but at best I only had four years left. So…"

Harry's eyes filled. He took a deep breath, tilting his head back so the tears wouldn't fall. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"It's bad enough that Sally-Anne knows. She saw something in her dreams, warned me of the possibility… Fussed over me all year." Theodore's lips pulled into a light smile and then he snorted very softly. "Surprised you hadn't noticed her fawning over me…"

"I was a little preoccupied with Sirius Black on the loose and new classes," Harry said shakily. Pushing his glasses up, Harry wiped his face and leaned forward. He pressed his elbows to his knees. He was going to lose a friend he had only gotten close to this past year.

"As my Da says…" The injured Slytherin took in a sharp breath. "Now that you're good and malleable, it's my turn."

"Turn?" Harry sniffed, wiping at his runny nose.

"Those spells you used in the duel against Snape… when did you practice them? Where?"

The wind was knocked out of him. Being asked that on top of everything else? Harry chuckled. "I didn't. I swear I didn't. I didn't even know the incantation of the first one. It just…" Harry clenched his hands into fists and then relaxed them, remembering. "It just came out of me." When the silence stretched out, Harry looked up and saw Theodore was staring at him with reflective eyes.

"It must have been frightening."

"Yes," Harry said. "It was because I don't know where it came from, and I've never felt so… angry."

Beyond the safety of the infirmary's walls, there was a low howl. Theodore perked up. After several moments, he deflated after appearing to struggle to not howl back. "It's so bloody sad…"

"What?"

"Professor Lupin. He doesn't have a pack…" Theodore made a noise similar to a growl, but it was cut-off by a pained grunt.

The torches along the walls brightened slightly. Harry turned as Madam Pomfrey came around the blinds. "Harry, you need rest if you're going to recover from those dementors..." She bustled to Theodore's side, pressing hands against his face. "The fever's back," she tsked, setting vials next to the bed. "I told you to lie still and not talk."

Harry stood, helplessly watching. "Sorry, I just wanted to know—"

"No need to apologize. Now, hop along, before I paralyze and float you to your bed."

"Madam Pomfrey'll wake you up if I take a turn for the worse." Theodore grinned playfully up at her. "Won't you?"

The Healer's hands stilled where they were. Harry met her worried gaze, and she nodded. "That will do, Theodore. You must rest." She drew back, pulled her wand out, and pointed it at the vials and then at Theodore's abdomen.

"The name's Theoohh…" Theodore's eyes rolled back suddenly, and his body slumped into the bed.

Harry blinked curiously down at his friend. "Will he be alright, Madam Pomfrey?"

"He's gotten through the worst of it. I know he'll survive the infection... but that's all. I can't say whether there will be complications yet."

"Thank you."

The kind witch nodded and then shooed him away.

Listening to rain that had begun to fall against the windows, Harry laid down into the bed he'd woken up in and stared into the dark ceiling above him.

An hour ago, Theodore must have just been brought into the infirmary in great pain. It was one possible explanation for Hermione's refusal to use the Time-Turner that didn't require a restriction of its use…

After Theodore had protected her, Hermione had saved his life by Transfiguring the silver bangles and dittany into a poultice for the wound. It was a very good thing she had, since a person could die within minutes of being ravaged by a werewolf.

When Harry woke the next day and slipped on his glasses, he was unsurprised to see that Draco was in the chair next to his bed. Unsurprised and unhappy. Harry glanced towards the corner; there were no blinds, and the bed was empty. "Do you happen to bully everyone you know or are you just a prat?"

"Just a prat," Draco answered loftily.

"Then, I'll be more direct." Harry glared at him. "You will either stop telling others that I want to be a Dark Lord or I'll hex you on the spot."

"You with what wand?"

Harry reached for his holly wand and discovered his holster had been removed from his person. It must have happened after he fell asleep. He was wearing pale blue patient robes.

Draco inspected his fingernails. "Oh, that's right, Madam Pomfrey confiscated it, didn't she?"

"I have a pillow." Sitting up, Harry held it menacingly.

"What a terrifying thought, Harry Potter with a pillow." Draco wiggled his fingers mockingly.

Harry swung it and thumped him in the head. The other teen let out a yelp, nearly falling out of his chair. Laughing at the state of Draco's greased hair sticking up at an odd angle, Harry held the cotton pillow up in a ready position again. "That's for calling Hermione a Mudblood after threatening her yesterday, you bleeding prat."

"Fine." Draco slicked his hair down quite easily, looking very annoyed. "I'll stop telling everyone you want to be a Dark Lord."

"Or that I am a Dark Lord. Because I'm not."

"Or that." Leaning back as if he had not been beaned in the head by a pillow, Draco sighed in discontent. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to tell me how you did it?"

"Did what?"

"I have never seen my godfather so furious before." Draco leaned forward. "You realize you—" Gesturing with his hands, he snapped both into a tight fist as he pulled them towards his body. "Snatched his vengeance from him."

"Scapegoating an innocent man doesn't stop the true perpetrator from committing the same acts."

Shaking his head, Draco sighed again. "You're a thick one, aren't you?"

Harry looked at him. The other teen's eyes held a fierce intensity that Harry wasn't used to seeing.

"I figured out that he was the one who gave you that photo album, the one with all those photographs of your mother… Of course, I wasn't completely sure until my father told me about the one request my godfather had ever asked of the Dark Lord."

"…What was that?" Harry wasn't sure if he even wanted to know.

"Sparing your mother's life."

Harry's stomach dropped out. "He…" Wasn't this proof of how close Snape had been to Voldemort? That the evil wizard had actually attempted to fulfill Snape's request? Harry thought he was going to be sick.

"You see? Professor Snape almost avenged the death of your mother through the execution of the man convicted of betraying the Secret he held."

Harry tasted bile but swallowed and took a deep breath. The greasy-haired git should be blaming the Dark Master he once served, perhaps still served. "You believed that justice had been miscarried in regards to Sirius Black," he said.

"Yes, but you don't see me snatching burning parchment from an Ashwinder, do you?"

"You baited a hippogriff," Harry reminded.

"My godfather is deadlier." Draco smirked. "Which brings me to my next point. You still haven't convinced me that you haven't got a death wish."

"How does that work? A suicidal Dark Lord?"

"It fits. No one said you were a very smart Dark Lord. That's why you have me."

Harry snorted because he certainly didn't trust Draco when he went behind Harry's back and threatened his friends. "I don't need your help. I'll stay far away from trouble next year." If there was a next year at Hogwarts… Harry wasn't too worried about that. He thought his chances were very high that he would not be expelled at all, considering that the headmaster seemed to approve of him.

"You, a law-abiding student of Hogwarts? Won't ever happen. I saw your father's misconduct records." Draco laughed. "He was a menace!"

Shooting him an irritated look, Harry scowled. "Did you bribe someone?"

"Oh, no. I spent a long day serving detention with my godfather after McGonagall reprimanded me and docked House points for my Stunning attempt in Hogsmeade. You know how I lovegoing through records." Draco's lips curled in happy remembrance. "Of course, I relayed the information to my father. He found it very fascinating, which is how we got onto the topic of your mother—"

Not wanting to hear what two bigots had to say about his Muggle-born mother, Harry held up a hand. "Why the bleeding hell did they pick you to play babysitter? Where is everyone?"

"Ah, Dumbledore put out notice last night that there would be one last Hogsmeade trip of the term. Today."

Harry scowl deepened because he didn't have permission and probably wouldn't if Neville's overly sheltered childhood was anything to go by.

"It's terribly sad that your friends abandoned you to go on a date."

"They can do whatever they want. I'm not their keeper."

Tutting, Draco stood up and pulled a parchment from his robes. "You're in luck, your Grace. A very small owl delivered these to you this morning." The other Slytherin thumbed it, appearing as if he might be having second thoughts.

Harry simultaneously smacked him with the pillow and stole the parchment, before Draco tried to extract more favors from him.

The pointy-faced prat spluttered indignantly. "There's no need to be so violent! I wouldn't have asked for anything."

"Quit lying," Harry said absently. As he read the note, his face brightened the moment he realized what it was.

For in elegant script in the middle of the page was a line that read: I, Sirius Black, Godfather, hereby give Harry Potter permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends.

"That one didn't have several nasty hexes awaiting the wrong hand to open it, but this one… I didn't want to take my chances." Draco drew out a deep plum-colored letter and offered it to him.

Harry looked at him suspiciously, but pulled it from the other Slytherin's lax fingertips.

"See? I don't always require a favor to help you."

On the front it was addressed to Harry, and beneath it were the words, 'Woe betide to those who tamper with post not theirs'.

Picking up his pouch, which was sitting on the little table beside the bed, Harry took out the letter opener and slit the envelope open. He put the knife away and pulled the sheet of parchment from the envelope. Draco leaned over his shoulder to read.

"Do you mind?" Harry snapped out.

With an unconvincing, hurt look, Draco sat back down. "Spoilsport."

In it, Sirius told Harry that he and Buckbeak were safe and well-hidden, that it had indeed been him who had given Harry the Firebolt for Christmas for the twelve birthdays he'd missed when he was in Azkaban. He apologized for scaring Harry in Hogsmeade and at Spinner's End. In the post-script, he scribbled a short, cryptic message about a letter of apology he'd sent to both Ronald Weasley and Theodore Nott without an explanation as to why. Harry already knew why Theodore would deserve a letter, but it took a moment for him to remember that Weasley had been threatened with a knife—or rather had mistaken Black's attempt to get Wormtail out of Gryffindor Tower as an attempt on the redhead's life.

Sitting up, Harry took a deep breath, refolding the letter and placing it back into the envelope which was now a light blue color. "Dumbledore ought to accept the permission slip. It's not too late to get to Hogsmeade, is it?" When Harry stood up too quickly, a wave of vertigo threatened to send him toppling to the floor; Draco caught his shoulders.

"Lunch first, Scarhead."

After Draco cast a Refreshening charm on him, the blond fetched Madam Pomfrey. She did a few diagnostic spells, provided Harry with one last potion, and returned his wand and holster to him. Once Harry Switched out the patient robes for a clean set Draco had brought, he snapped on his wand holster and pocketed the letters and the pouch. The two walked side-by-side to the Great Hall. "Where's Crabbe and Goyle? Hogsmeade?"

The taller teen nodded.

Harry saw once they entered the expansive room that many of the students had taken advantage of the last trip to the magical town. Neville, Ron, and Hermione had not. They were sitting with the first and second years at the Gryffindor table with the Head Boy. Harry took a seat by Daphne's younger sister and Gilbert at the Slytherin table. With the exams behind him, Gilbert looked very relaxed, chatting easily with his year-mates who'd chosen to stay behind.

"I never did thank you," Harry said to the brown-haired second year.

Astoria Greengrass looked up from listening to her friends and smiled shyly. The other second years' conversations hushed. "No thanks required… your Grace," she covered her mouth after she said that, looking away with a giggle as her blue eyes twinkled with mischief. The other second-years giggled nervously.

"I don't like being addressed like that. Call me Harry or Potter."

"Yes, sir," she responded. She grinned cheekily at him.

Harry sighed as Draco said from across the table with a sage voice, "You won't get what you want, I think."

"Shut it. Don't pretend that you and Theo didn't start the trend, you prat." Harry turned back to the second year when something occurred to him. "Astoria, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, sir, you may."

"How were you able to lie to Professor Snape about my being in the library?" It was something that had bothered Harry. Snape had taken her word for it too easily…

"I'm a natural Occlumens, sir. It's an inborn gift. If you're a Greengrass, you're either a Legilimens, an Occlumens, or a Squib," Astoria patiently explained. "It isn't a really flashy gift, but it's quite useful."

"I see." Harry tried not to be disappointed. If it was such common knowledge for the Greengrass line, why didn't Snape hassle her? Harry shook his head. It was also too bad it was an inborn gift. Otherwise, he would have asked her to recommend an Occlumency tutor. Eating into the spread of food, Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling. The enchanted sky was completely blue without a wisp of sky. Every now and then birds would flutter by.

Normal conversation resumed around him, and Harry swiftly ate several plates of food.

After he finished, Harry hopped off the bench, not bothering to wait for the blond prat. Before long he'd made it to the headmaster's office with Draco ranting behind him about his quick pace. The gargoyle was already standing to attention to the side of the stairwell. The staircase was open to anyone who cared to enter. Harry immediately moved onto the steps, aware that Draco was right behind him.

"Have I done something else to offend you, your Grace?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure you will soon."

Draco's next words were in defense of himself. Harry didn't bother to listen.

Meanwhile, the stairs spiraled upwards, taking them to the landing. The door with the knocker opened before Harry could touch it. Draco fell silent when Harry didn't respond to him. Perhaps he was thinking to himself... or maybe the taller teen had decided not to aggravate Harry further before they spoke to a powerful, well-connected wizard that Harry was on really good terms with.

"Ah, Harry!" The headmaster's cheerful voice greeted. "And Draco. A good afternoon to you. Lemon Drop?"

Harry took one of the yellow, sour candies, plopping it into his mouth to roll it around. Draco politely refused. The headmaster's office was just as Harry remembered it, round and cozy with paintings of previous headmasters fast asleep in their portraits. His eyes zeroed in on a painting of Salazar Slytherin. The Founder was stroking his beard and looking at Harry thoughtfully.

"Have a seat," Professor Dumbledore said, conjuring chairs for them. "It is so unusual for me to receive students as visitors. What may I do for you, gentlemen?"

The permission slip was passed to the headmaster. "I received it this morning. Can I go?" Perched on the edge of the chair, Harry looked hopeful. It was the least the headmaster could do for him after Harry had been attacked twice by dementors on Hogwarts grounds and apprehended Peter Pettigrew…

Peering at the parchment, the aged wizard smiled. "Yes, this is perfectly within rules. I see why you would deliver it personally to me when your Head of House has a certain, hm, bias against your legal godfather. I will arrange a proper chaperone to escort you. Is there anything else?" When Harry answered in the negative, the clear blue eyes turned to the other Slytherin. "And you, Draco?"

The blond looked very uncomfortable with the attention and looked away as he stood. "No, sir."

Harry rose to his feet. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"My door is open to those who choose to seek me out."

With that cryptic message, they left the way they'd come. Once their feet touched the stone of the corridor, Draco let out a burst of air. "Perfectly within rules? Sirius Black is a felon! When my father hears of this, he'll—" Draco's lips curled at Harry's sudden laughter. "Stop it."

"What's your father going to do? He's not even a school governor anymore."

Appearing offended, the other teen sniffed. "He doesn't need to be a governor to enact changes."

Shaking his head, Harry's feet hopped down the marble steps to the courtyard in the stifling heat. He'd begun to sweat the moment they were outside.

Draco cast a Cooling Charm on their robes without being asked.

"Thanks," Harry said begrudgingly.

"You're most welcome, your Grace."

A shadow fell over them, and they looked up to see a bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping the sweat off his face. " 'Ello 'Arry. Rotten luck las' night. I mean, Black escapin' again, an' Buckbeak runnin' away. Glad he hadn't met Professor Lupin on th' grounds…"

"What?" Harry asked, shooting a look at Draco who'd made a disgusted noise.

Hagrid also glanced towards the blond before he turned his head to Harry again. "Blimey, haven't yeh heard?" The Care of Magical Creatures professor lowered his voice, even though there was nobody else in sight. "Poor fellow's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on th' grounds las' night. Professor Lupin resigned firs' thing this mornin' to th' students since he'd made a ruckus howlin' at th' full moon. He's packin' now."

"He's packing," Harry said. "But he's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor we've had in three years…"

"He looked really torn up abou' it. Said he couldn't risk it happenin' again, so's he's leavin'."

Harry froze as the repercussions of what had happened last night dawned on him. Of course Professor Lupin was upset enough to quit. Anyone would be after attacking someone else as a Changed werewolf! "I'm going to see him."

"I'll wait fer yeh, 'Arry," Hagrid said, taking a seat on the stone steps in the shade.

"But there's nothing you can do," his roommate retorted hotly chasing after him into the cool, dark castle corridors. "I'm surprised Dumbledore even let it back inside Hogwarts, knowing what Lupin is."

"I don't care that he's a werewolf. I want to say goodbye. You can stay with Hagrid, if you're too afraid."

"Afraid? Hah! You must be joking," Draco said haughtily, but Harry could sense his unease.

"You forget I know your greatest fear," Harry said to him.

"It changes as you mature. For all you know, I could be terrified of dementors now."

"Good thing you haven't matured any then, isn't it? It makes you predictable."

"I'm not—no, you are! You always leap at the chance to play hero. Play because you aren't one. You rely too much on your reputation and connections to stay at Hogwarts! Anyone else would've been kicked out or sent to St. Mungo's by now!"

"I suppose I do use the headmaster, but he's alright with it or he wouldn't let me," Harry said agreeably as they turned down the corridor which led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "You'd do the same thing if you were in my position."

"Hah! Your prestige and infamy are wasted on you!" Draco ranted, "I would've taken this place over by now by kicking out all the Mud—Muggle-borns and that Muggle-loving headmaster, any drop-outs or werewolves posing as teachers, and any other Muggle-sympathizers can leave as far as I care—"

"It's a good thing I'm not you then, is it? Or else I would've kicked everyone I hated out too, no matter how talented or brilliant." Then Harry stopped by Professor Lupin's office door. Before he could knock, the door opened, and a deeply tanned and wrinkled face peered down at him with steel blue eyes, looking vaguely familiar. "Come in, come in."

Harry turned towards his unpleasant year-mate. "You can wait out here if you'd—"

"I have better things to do with my time than wait on you." Draco shifted, gripping the handle of the wand still in its holster. He had the look of someone mercilessly crushing the impulse to vomit.

"Alright," Harry said.

The blond spun on a foot and walked at a determined pace down the corridor, his cloak flaring out dramatically. Harry inwardly laughed. Had the pointy-faced Slytherin ever taken lessons from Snape?

"Well?" The voice of the stranger called from the room.

Harry stepped through the doorway. It was not with good feeling to see Professor Lupin's things floating to suitcases. An old record was playing a tune in the background, something Harry didn't recognize.

"It is with great pleasure to finally meet you, Harry Potter," the old wizard said. "My son has told me much about you and your heroic deeds." A calloused, sun-tanned hand was offered.

Harry shook it, looking around distractedly. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

The wizard's eyes flickered to the corner of the room where an old wardrobe sat. Harry could just make out the left shoulder of Professor Lupin's shabby overcoat sticking out next not far off the floor.

Harry approached the adult who was on the floor. He paused, seeing the Marauder's Map held in Professor Lupin's grip. He saw innumerable scratches on the wizard's hand and face. Harry wished Lupin didn't look so terribly sick. There were thick bandages peeking out from under the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I saw you coming," the tired man whispered.

"Hagrid told me what had happened. Why did you resign?"

"Because I did something that I swore I would never do." There was a deadness in his remorseful tone.

"But you're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has had in thirteen years. If you go, what sane, competent individual would take the post?"

Lupin sighed. "I am not as competent as I have pretended to be, Harry. Last night reinforced that…" His eyes moved to look at the wizard who continued flicking his wand to pack Lupin's things.

"But it's not your fault—!"

"Yes, it was," came the tired voice. "I thought it would be alright to indulge a little, that the potion wouldn't be rendered ineffective. I'd done it before, you see. Just a single sweet-mint—" Whatever the adult was about to say died on his lips, and tension tightened his shoulders together. "I was fooling myself. Thank Merlin that Severus' potion worked enough to suppress the beast's appetite and a large amount of its bloodthirstiness, even if I didn't maintain my full senses… but the drive to attack others remained…" His face fell, and his eyes grew watery. "In all honesty, I should be in Azkaban. Not free to hurt another living soul," he said hoarsely.

Harry opened his mouth, shut it, and breathed in through his nose. Lambasting his favorite teacher about praising Snape seemed in bad taste, especially given that the previous DADA teacher was obviously feeling very badly about attacking Theodore. "At least, tell me why you think you ought to leave now? Hogwarts still needs you. You know so much and I… I want to learn more."

"Harry…" The scarred wizard let out a heavy sigh. "You've done admirably on your own. At the age of thirteen, you've conjured a fully corporeal Patronus of your own… something that many wizards and witches cannot perform until they are well-seasoned." The wizard slumped his shoulders further. "The truth is… You don't need me."

"I do," Harry said fiercely.

Grey eyes met his, wounded and exhausted. "…I never did tell you how I came to meet them, your parents, Sirius and-and Peter…"

Sitting on the floor across from him, Harry tilted his head at him. "I'd like to listen now, if that's alright with you."

And so, Lupin told him about being the first Lycanthropy-infected student ever admitted to Hogwarts—in secret, of course; how most werewolves were denied any kind of formal education and were largely friendless—well, if you discounted others like them…

The record playing in the background seemed to be so far away as Harry gently tapped Lupin on the shoulder when he fell silent in thought for a long while. "Go on, Professor Lupin."

"I'm no longer your professor," Lupin said with a voice growing hoarse from unshed tears. "I lost that privilege last night."

Merlin, Harry was bad at this. "Alright. Then, tell me more about your friends when you were a student here. There was Prongs… and Padfoot, and—" Harry was loathe to say the next name, "Wormtail, right?"

"Yes, I was forced to trust them with my secret when they grew suspicious of my absences. Well, if Wormtail hadn't told the other two… Then I might never have been as close to James and Sirius…" Lupin's eyes were looking far away now. "Sirius dubbed us the Marauders. The four of us," the wizard said. "Besides them, I had just two other friends."

"So each of them, the other Marauders, became an Animagus to help you… to be your pack, since animals can't catch Lycanthropy…?"

"Yes." The hand tightened on the Marauder's Map as emotion—longing—choked the wizard's voice. Harry had only read repeated warnings of not to engage one among its packmates. Bloodbath was the tamest word for the foolhardy witch or wizard who dared to do so.

"Can I ask you a question? About what happened in the Shrieking Shack, I mean, when Snape—"

"Professor Snape," chided Lupin.

Grimacing, Harry hesitated as the sound of things frittering themselves away into their proper packed places continued. Lupin's eyes drifted to the floor again. "You called it a schoolboy grudge, but Snape—Professor Snape said that Sirius was capable of murder at age sixteen. That sounds worse than a schoolboy grudge."

There came a long, weary sigh. "It's true. Sirius and James played a terrible prank on him… One that might have cost him his life…" A distance developed on Lupin's eyes, fixing on something Harry couldn't see.

"What did they do?"

"They told him how to get past the Whomping Willow on the night of a full moon, knowing I would be Changed and ravaging the interior of the Shrieking Shack."

Harry stared at Lupin. It would explain the animosity and distrust the greasy-haired bastard held towards Lupin whenever it was close to a full moon…

"Ever since, Severus has never looked at me quite the same…" Lupin ran a tight hand through his short hair, the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt falling below the bandage wrapped around his wrist. "If James hadn't grabbed him at the last moment…" The wizard was overcome with emotion, terror and something else Harry didn't quite catch. "Twenty years ago Severus would have become infected like Mr. Nott's son."

Before Harry could figure out what he could possibly say to cheer him up that didn't include a reassurance about no one caring whether Snape was a werewolf, tears were slipping down the ex-professor's cheeks. Lupin's scabbed left hand covered his face. A quiet sob sounded, and an awkward Harry decided that he should say nothing and backed away.

The noise of packing had apparently quieted some time ago, and Harry's heart fell. It meant Remus J. Lupin would be leaving soon.

"What's on your mind?" It was the stranger, who Harry deduced was Mr. Nott.

"I'm worried about him," Harry said, glancing towards the werewolf still sitting near the corner of the office.

"He'll be alright." Theodore's Da said, waving his wand one more time. The remaining packed boxes and bags and trunks around the room ferreted themselves into Professor Lupin's open, tattered suitcase. "He needs time."

Harry watched in wonder, reminding himself that the suitcase likely had an Undetectable Super-Extended Charm on it. "You're okay with your son being a werewolf?"

"There are worse things," Mr. Nott said. He looked far less bothered than Harry would have expected. "Remus, we need to go if you were serious about mentoring my son. I have an appointment to keep and no more time to tarry."

As he stood up, the motions of the werewolf were disjointed, lacking the smoothness Harry typically associated with him. The map was folded and placed into his jacket after speaking the words to make it blank. He reached for the cane leaning on the wall, grasping it to stand.

Feeling a little bad about it but knowing this was his only chance, Harry came forward. "Professor…"

"Remus or Lupin," came the softly spoken correction.

"May I have the map back, Lupin?"

Bloodshot eyes looked at Harry for a long moment. Leaning on his cane, Lupin touched his jacket where the Marauder's Map was kept and then shook his head. "It's too dangerous for you. I can't risk letting James' son get into more mischief next year. I'll hold it in safekeeping until you're old enough to be responsible."

Harry greatly disliked this response, but didn't say so. "Then, this is goodbye?"

"Yes, but not forever," Lupin said. "Please take care of yourself, Harry…"

The Slytherin nodded. Mr. Nott gave him a parting smile as he locked the suitcase with a tap of his wand and picked it up as if it weighed nothing.

The room was very bare now. The door was opened for Lupin, who shuffled out unsteadily, and Mr. Nott followed behind him.

Harry left the room after them. The werewolf's shoulders were drooped as he limped down the corridor.

"You have the most pathetic expression right now," Draco's voice said beside him.

Frowning, Harry squinted to the right and saw a faint outline of a body that nearly matched the wall behind it. He took out his wand. "Finite Incantatem."

Within moments the Disillusionment Charm had melted off of Draco. "The poor bastard must've been a victim of a werewolf attack. The Dark Lord often sent his infectious mutts to bite the children of his adversaries…" Draco lifted an eyebrow, gesturing dismissively. "Usually, the parents would put down such an affront to nature."

"What?" Anger boiled through Harry. The more he learned about Voldemort, the more he hated him. To have purposefully set werewolves onto others was a new low learned. And for parents to murder their own children just for being a werewolf? Why would anyone do that?

Draco snorted at the look on his face. "It's a mercy killing, Potter. The only thing worse than being a werewolf is being a Muggle-born."

Grounding his jaw down, Harry knew it was a lost cause arguing with a self-assured bigot and decided not to say anything.

Eyes flicking towards the exit where the two wizards were heading, the other Slytherin stated, "I'll grant that he's different, since he left his post without needing to be told. Not many werewolves would voluntarily add themselves to the Werewolf Register."

Registration. Theodore Nott had mentioned that he'd avoided it by not going to St. Mungo's…

"To be honest, I've never met a tame one before."

Harry scowled as a thought came to him. "What exactly do registered werewolves do for a living?"

"They find a sponsor, who's willing to have them around." A nasty grin came over Draco's face. "You think that tame werewolf would be willing to wear a collar with my name engraved on it in exchange for sponsorship?"

The image of the boggart-turned-werewolf in bows and wearing a silver collar came to Harry's mind. "No one would do that, werewolf or not."

Full-throated laughter fell from Draco. "You underestimate his desperation. The state of his clothes and luggage tells me that he's been without a steady income for a while." Draco swaggered down the corridor, appearing unaware of Harry's disgust with him. "Well, are you coming? We don't have much time if we're going to Hogsmeade."

"We? You act like we're friends."

"Business associates then." Draco paused mid-step, when Harry went the opposite direction towards a staircase that would carry him to the dungeons. "Of course," the blond said raising his voice, "You're more than welcome to go brood about the unfairness of it all."

Startled by Draco's pronouncement, Harry stopped where he was. "I wasn't going to brood," he called up the stairwell.

"The broody Boy-Who-Lived. Doesn't have much of a ring to it, but I'm sure that will make all the girls weak-kneed in a year or so." Draco laughed again, when Harry didn't respond. "I'll give your regards to that high school dropout. Until then… I bid you adieu."

Traveling to the Slytherin Dungeons, Harry felt a little guilty about setting Draco on Hagrid, but thought a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Not reacting to that bloody prat was more of a challenge than he thought it would be.

* * *

Harry's spirits worsened as the last couple of days the term passed. For one, he hadn't seen Theodore since the night of the full moon. For another, Snape's behavior towards Harry had gone from unpleasant to outright hostile. Though Harry had tried to be as obedient and compliant as he could stomach, a muscle would twitch unpleasantly at the corner of Snape's thin mouth every time he spoke at Harry, and when the Potions Master would meet Harry's eyes he would constantly flex his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry's throat. Harry recognized intimidation tactics since Uncle Vernon had used many of them himself. However, unlike Harry's porky relative, Snape's methods were effective.

Given half the chance, the Death Eater, not unlike Draco's father, was so furious that he might try to murder Harry for helping Sirius Black escape. Of course, Draco had noticed his godfather's nonverbal tells of irrational rage and had volunteered Crabbe and Goyle to take guard shifts, just so Harry could sleep. Even so, Harry never touched any food or drink unless he had Slytherin's knife in hand first, and he always went to bed with his wand under his pillow.

Since his godfather was in hiding, Harry knew he would have to go live on Longbottom Manor with that terrible old witch. Neville, however, was quite excited about the prospect. He greeted Harry whenever he saw him, ignoring the glares he received from the other Slytherins when a Gryffindor had dared to approach Harry so casually. Harry would send a smile back at Neville, eyes shooting daggers at any of his housemates that even tried to approach his brother. That was warning enough for his housemates and they lay off bullying Neville.

Thankfully, the exam results came out on the last day of term and provided a short distraction. Every third year Slytherin had passed their exams. Harry had not received anything lower than an E—besides the solitary A for Transfigurations which Harry hardly thought counted. Sally-Anne and Draco had received top marks again, and not a single seventh year Slytherin had failed their N.E.W.T.S. They would all be graduating and starting a new job as soon as they left Hogwarts.

The Leavetaking feast that night was splendid. The Great Hall was decked in colors of green and silver. Even better, Professor Dumbledore hadn't awarded Harry points for his covert actions, which was precisely how Harry wanted it. The Slytherin House was celebrating rather loudly. Harry managed to forget the unfairness of Lupin's affliction, Theodore's condition, and Black's plight, his horrible unease over Snape, and his upcoming, miserable summer stay with Augusta Longbottom, while he ate, drank, talked, and laughed with the rest of his housemates.

* * *

The Hogsmeade train station was crowded the next morning as Harry and Sally-Anne stepped out of the carriage pulled by reptilian black horses with Ginny and Luna, who were locked in their own conversation.

"I'm ready for the summer," Sally-Anne was saying. "I've had enough excitement this year."

There was a screech, and an owl dropped out of the sky clipping its wing on the side of Harry's head.

"Hey!" Harry rubbed his cheek where the feathers had roughly brushed him, looking up at the screech owl perched on a lamp post. When he stepped closer to it, the letter in its talons was released, and he snatched it out of the air. It was a cream-colored envelope with their names on it in Theodore's loopy, squished handwriting.

Sally-Anne smiled at the sight of it. "We need to board the train before it leaves us."

They hopped on board and wandered to the very last compartment. Once they were comfortably ensconced on the benchseats, Harry opened his letter, unfolding it. He leaned over so Sally-Anne could read it with him.

Dear Sally-Anne and Harry,  
Madagascar is fantastic! If only I wasn't bed-ridden through most of the trip. Da said my injuries won't fully heal until the next full moon. I can't wait! My allergies are already gone, though my asthma doesn't seem to be.  
Lupin's doing better, though he's yet to hold a conversation with me that hasn't include an apology.  
All three of us are going to the Quidditch World Cup in August. (It's a surprise for Lupin. If you write him, please don't tell him about it!) And Da has three more tickets to give out. Did either of you want to see a professional Quidditch match? Britain hasn't hosted the World Cup since 1976!  
Let me know,  
Theo Nott

Harry thought it was a wicked good idea.

"I can't go," Sally-Anne said with a disappointed frown. "My parents are strict about that sort of thing."

The Hogwarts Express let out a shrill whistle and pulled out from the station. The door to their compartment slid open and Neville, Ron, and Hermione came in, taking the bench across from the Slytherins. Ron and Hermione were bickering over something, but at least they weren't shouting.

"Hello Harry. Hello Sally-Anne," Neville said, holding his squirming toad in hand.

They greeted him back, eyes flicking to the intense conversation coming from the other two Gryffindors.

"So, I've told the Deputy Headmistress that I no longer plan to take Care of Magical Creatures next semester. I don't like Magical Creatures as much as I thought I might," Sally-Anne said.

"Really?" Neville's toad wriggled out of his hand and flopped onto his knee. "But Hermione said you did an Outstanding on the exam!"

"Did Hermione lose her privileges?" Harry asked his housemate pointedly, while Hermione and Ron continued to argue about something that seemed inconsequential: England's best Quidditch team.

Neville's eyes went to Sally-Anne and then darted towards Hermione. "What privileges?"

Interrupting her own rant about ill-mannered boys, Hermione grimaced. "I gave them up voluntarily; I didn't want the responsibility, so I won't be taking either Muggle Studies or Divination."

"You never did tell us how you managed to go to those classes at the same time," Ron grumbled.

"Yeah, how'd you do it?" Neville said.

"I don't want to be Obliviated," Hermione said hotly.

Sally-Anne nodded. "Nor I."

"Neither do I," Harry said.

The others looked at him skeptically.

"I bet two Sickles you don't know what Obliviation is," Ron said.

"I'll take that wager." Harry cleared his throat theatrically. "It means someone's erased your memories of a particular event with memory charms."

With a grumble, the Gryffindor slapped the silver wizard coins into Harry's palm.

"I guess Theodore told you then?" Sally-Anne guessed.

"That and a Psych Healer said I accidentally Obliviated myself when I was a child." Harry grinned, sticking the coins into his pouch. "No hard feelings Ron?"

"Nah, it was leftover from the wager I had with my sister."

"What wager?" Hermione asked with a pinched face.

Ron fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, I said that she wouldn't be able to beat Harry to the Snitch… Oh, that reminds me! The Quidditch World Cup this summer!" Ron grinned at her, "How about it, Hermione? Come and stay over again and we'll go see it! Dad usually gets tickets from work."

Hermione didn't appear to like this idea as her face became even more pinched. "I don't know… My parents wanted me to stay home for the summer to spend time together, since I hardly see them…"

"Oh. Right, Mum always said family first." The redhead had a mildly surprised look about him at her lukewarm answer.

"What about me?" Neville asked despondently.

"Well," Ron started and then frowned, "You're not family—"

"Neville," Harry interrupted. "Theo invited me to go with him, but he said he had more tickets."

"You're inviting me?" Neville's voice was filled with such hope that Harry wanted to reach over and pat him on the head. Fortunately, he refrained.

"Well, if we can somehow convince Mrs. Longbottom to let us go, then yes," Harry said, aborting a sigh.

"You could come with us, 'Mione. Right, Harry?"

"Sure. One more shouldn't hurt," Harry said to his brother.

"That sounds fantastic," Hermione said, giving Neville a broad grin. "Thanks, Neville."

"You'll go with them but not with me? I thought we were friends!"

Hermione grimaced. "I'm not so sure about that."

"It's nothing personal," Sally-Anne added. "This way her time won't be monopolized by one greedy Gryffindor."

Ron muttered something under his breath, shooting a murderous glare at her. He then shoved himself up forcibly to slam the door open of the compartment. "Bloody Slytherins!" Moments later, he was gone.

Hermione leaned forward and shut the door. "Thanks, Sally-Anne."

She smiled shyly. A cross look flashed across her face and then she turned to Harry. "Since I was never privy to the information about a certain werewolf teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'd like to know why you were stupid enough to trust Sirius Black's word over our Head of House."

"I… Well..." Where would he begin?

"Every Slytherin thinks you set him loose, though no one knows how you did it." Her eyes narrowed. "If the official story of him slaughtering a street full of Muggles isn't true, then what happened?"

So, Harry told her how Sirius Black had switched places with Peter Pettigrew, a rat Animagus, as Harry's parent's Secretkeeper; how nobody had known Pettigrew was an informant to the Voldemort for over a year; how after the discovery that Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters, Black had gone after Pettigrew to avenge his best friends. Then Harry told them Pettigrew's final act of senseless violence. Hermione and Neville had nodded along agreeing with Harry's summary. When the Slytherin had finished, Sally-Anne looked thoughtful.

"It's all true. I was there," Neville said, though he looked very green.

"Neville, do you need some fresh air?" Harry noticed that he was sweating profusely.

"Well… something that Professor Trelawney said after I was last to finish the exam… But it probably doesn't mean anything, I mean, we all know she's not a Seer…" He laughed nervously, "Just because she and Gran think that the You-Know-Who's going to rise again..."

Hermione peered at her fellow Gryffindor. "We all know she's a fraud. Why didn't you reject it?"

"Well… her voice… it was harsh and it sounded like there was another person speaking from her."

At hearing that descriptor, Sally-Anne frowned. "What did she say?" She leaned closer to Neville, who squirmed and blushed in embarrassment. "Go on. We won't make fun of you."

The Gryffindor's eyebrows knit together in concentration. "She said… He who betrayed his friend… whose heart… rots with murder… shall break free," he said slowly, "And then she started talking about the savage servant and merciless master getting back together… with innocent blood causing the Dark Lord to rise again… Scared me senseless, she did. But it's nothing right?"

The first part might be about Peter Pettigrew breaking of Azkaban in the future… But he was a known Animagus, and before Black no one's ever broken out before…

"It might be a true prophecy," Sally-Anne said darkly.

Hermione snorted. "It's too vague and cryptic to understand until some future event takes place that fits the pieces… There's nothing in it! Trelawney's a fraud."

"I'm willing to trust Neville's instinct. If the pattern holds, next year there's going to be another servant of You-Know-Who. That servant is going to help his master rise again with a blood ritual of Dark Magic," Harry said. The compartment went deathly quiet at that. Harry gave a too-pale Neville the last bit of chocolate from the emergency stash Madam Pomfrey had given him. "Eat up."

And that seemed to cut the tension that had fallen over them. Lighter conversation overtook the compartment, while Sally-Anne and Neville talked about magizoology, a shared interest between them.

Something outside the door yowled, and Hermione opened the door. "Crookshanks!" Hermione crooned, scooping the large fluffy orange Kneazle with a bottle-brush tail. The creature purred happily as she pet it and continued to read.

While the others entertained themselves, Harry pulled out the letters from his godfather and the one from Theodore to re-read. He was hopeful for the next year. No Quidditch meant he wouldn't suffer any falls or attacks on a broom. With luck, Harry thought, this rumor about the Triwizard Tournament will turn out to be a fantastic spectacle to enjoy.

He smiled to himself, feeling much cheered up.

* * *

Several hours later, after saying their goodbyes to Sally-Anne, Neville and Harry dragged their trunks off the Hogwarts Express and across the platform to the very stern-looking witch waiting for them. Hedwig hooted in the cage Harry was carrying in his left hand.

"This summer will be devoted to learning proper social protocols and etiquette, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Longbottom said. Her red nagaskin bag and vulture-perched hat looked as tacky as ever. "It shouldn't be that difficult for you if you're a quick learner."

Once she had turned around, Harry made a face behind her, and Neville shot a worried look at him.

"Come along, dears."

And, together they set off toward the station exit for a summer that was sure to test Harry's patience...

**~*The End*~**

* * *

**Preview of Harry and the Three Knights**

They reached forward as one, each grasping a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. In a howl of swirling color, he and Diggory were being transported. At first, Harry hoped it was one of the many fakes planted to send the hapless champion close to the starting point. However, it took longer and longer for them to land.

Considering how giddy the soul-shard was, Harry had only one viable answer: Voldemort's plan. Harry suspected that he had been expected to grasp the cup all along, to get kidnapped as the result of a most convoluted plan to have him 'win'. Diggory was staring at Harry with wide-eyed expectation as they spun around and around. **It's a pity that the spare will have to go**, the soul-shard whispered over the roar of the long-distance Portkey.

Harry's feet slammed into the ground, and he fell face-first, releasing the cup. Hands in semi-muddy soil, he raised his head and realized with sinking dread that his worst fears had come alive. They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely, for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were in a dark and overgrown graveyard. Beyond him, there was a black outline of a small church and a large yew tree to his right. A hill rose to his left where a fine, old house had been built. That was all Harry needed to see before he drew his wand.


End file.
